


The Mycelium Effect

by CrunchyWrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, DnD races, Healing, M/M, Museum Librarian!Caleb, Mycology Curator!Caduceus, Slow Burn, fic with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-04-24 00:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 150,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites
Summary: It is autumn when Caleb Widogast packs up his old life in Rexxentrum and moves to Zadash, settling into his role as the new librarian of the Zadash Museum of Natural History. The job, as all jobs do, comes with a number of quirks; there’s the near-indecipherable filing system left behind by the previous librarian that he needs to work around, there’s the layout of the maze-like museum that he needs to learn, and there’s his new colleagues who he needs to get along with.And then there’s Caduceus Clay - the strange, somewhat unsettling, but undeniably interesting assistant curator of mycology, and Caleb isn’t at all sure what to do with him.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a fine, crisp day in late autumn when Caleb Widogast arrived at the Zadash Museum of Natural History, his satchel hanging from one shoulder and his cat, Frumpkin, draped over his shoulders like a living scarf. After the biting chill of the cold air outside, the blast of warmth that greeted him just inside the museum doors was more than welcome, making him smile to himself as he reached up to adjust his actual, fabric scarf around his neck. The knitted texture of it was soft and familiar beneath his fingertips, worn gentle with time and wear, and the touch of it against his skin helped to calm him somewhat. It had been a long, long time since he’d last lived anywhere but Rexxentrum. It had been a long, long time since he’d last _worked_ anywhere but Rexxentrum. Even now, with all the paperwork signed and all his belongings half-unpacked at his new house, it still didn’t feel entirely real to be here, in a different town halfway across the country.

But he was, and it was too late to change that now. He’d needed to move, had needed a change, had needed to go somewhere quieter, somewhere less steeped in memories of- well, of many things. So here he was. Here he was, standing just inside the doors of his new museum – his new workplace – feeling the heated air roaring from the vents overhead pressing in along his skin.

This was going to be a new beginning for him, and he was going to make the best of it. And that meant putting roots down all over again.

Caleb drew in a breath, chasing the remaining chill from his lungs as he stepped further into the museum. The small atrium-like area he was in stretched away before him, opening up into a large, vaulted hall of dusty red sandstone hung with sparkling chandeliers of lights. They cast a soft light everywhere, painting shadows amongst the arches and catching on the swirls in the marble-tiled floor, and dotted around all over the place Caleb could see assorted displays and exhibits, each with their own information plaques or little signs.

There was also, wonderfully, a very large ‘Information’ sign hanging above a desk off to one side. Caleb had, naturally, already memorised the visitors map, but he knew all too well how they were rarely a truly accurate depiction of a museum, and that whatever image he had in his mind would in no way help in finding out where to go.

It would also be easier to find out where to go, he felt, if he actually knew where he was supposed to be going.

He made his way to the desk, by habit walking as quietly as he could across marble tiles that rang beneath his every step. The sound echoed around him, undercutting the faint swishing of his coat and settling in the corners of the arches like fleeting moments of liquid gold. It wasn’t a sound that was particularly familiar to him – his previous museum had been fond of dark, wooden floors with isolated islands of carpet and tile for certain exhibits – and it felt almost as if the museum was announcing his arrival to whoever it was that was at a museum at 8:55 on a Monday morning. If nothing else, the singing marble was certainly announcing his approach to the lady sitting at the information desk. As he approached, he watched her glance up to look at him, her long, dark hair, falling to neatly cover half of her face.

“Hi, welcome to the Zadash Museum of Natural History!” the lady behind the counter chirped as soon as Caleb was close enough, with a cheeriness that seemed, at least to Caleb, to be entirely genuine. “I’m Calianna; how may I help you today?”

Caleb watched as her eyes flitted from his face to his shoulder, where Frumpkin was still perched, but to her credit she didn’t say anything. Frumpkin’s little service vest, all bright and visible in fluorescent yellow, normally tended to draw some questions, but this lady appeared to be entirely unfazed. “Um, _ja_ , _hallo_ ,” Caleb replied. “I am- I am Caleb Widogast, I have- I am the new librarian? For the museum?” He didn’t mean to make the statements sound like questions but they did all the same. “I was- I was supposed to get an email about where to go, but it never arrived and so I- _ja_. I figured that checking here would be a good course of action.”

The lady- Calianna- gave a small sigh, shaking her head as she quickly tapped away at the keyboard before her. “That would’ve been the servers,” she explained apologetically. “They’ve been a bit weird recently. But if you give me a moment, I can call the assistant director to come and meet you?”

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_ , that would be great, thank you.”

“Sure, no problem!” She looked up at him, giving him a quick grin, and then reached out for the phone, quickly dialling and pressing it to her ear as it rang out. She drummed her nails against the desk as she waited for it to be picked up. The light of the chandeliers glinted off them, catching black and green and gold on the polish. Eventually, the phone gave a quiet _click_ , and from the other end Caleb heard the faint, indeterminate sound of someone speaking. “Hello?” Calianna asked. “Yes, hi, this is Cali. Just letting you know that there’s a mister…” She trailed off, glancing up at Caleb and pulling a quick face of confusion.

Caleb smiled, just a tiny bit. “Widogast,” he reminded her in a loud whisper, and Calianna grinned, flashing him a quick, grateful thumbs up.

“There’s a mister Widogast here for you,” she continued. There was a pause. “Yes.” Another pause. “Yes, he’s just at the desk. Apparently the email of where to go didn’t come through. I know – the servers. I’ll mention it to Bryce.” One more pause, this one longer than the other ones. “Okay, alright, sure! I’ll let him know. Okay. Bye!” She put the phone down, the plastic of the handset clicking gently against the base, and then smiled up at Caleb. “Mister Fjord will be here shortly!” she announced, in a manner that somehow implied that the ‘Mister’ was an important part of this man’s name. “He’ll be able to show you where to go.”

Caleb smiled, just a little bit. “Thank you very much,” he replied.

“Of course! Anything else I can help you with?”

Caleb shook his head. “That was it, thank you.”

“Alright, no worries. If you want, you can take a seat just over there,” Calianna continued, indicating a wooden bench pushed up against one wall of the main hall. “I’ll point him over when he gets here.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said again.

“No problem!”

Caleb turned, approaching the bench and taking a seat on it as directed. Around his neck he felt Frumpkin stir, and a moment later the cat tapped gently at his shoulder, requesting permission to jump down and stretch.

_“Oh ja, entschuldigung,”_ Caleb said, smiling slightly. He reached up, scratching Frumpkin absently behind the ears as he let the cat down. “Sorry, _schatz_. You might as well stretch while we wait for Mr Fjord, hm?”

Frumpkin looked up at him, giving a slow blink. There was a brief pause as he merely looked at Caleb, as if awaiting further permission, and then he yawned widely, stretched out on the bench beside Caleb, and promptly began scratching himself behind the ear.

After ten minutes or so, a flicker of motion from one corner of the room caught Caleb’s eye. He looked up, watching as a slender half-orc dressed in a neat, dark navy shirt with rolled-up sleeves approached the desk, trading a few quick words with Calianna before turning and striding with purpose towards Caleb. _Mr Fjord_ , Caleb assumed. He quickly rose to his feet as the half-orc approached, scooping Frumpkin back up onto his shoulders as he did so.

“Hey!” the half-orc called, his voice pitched so as not to carry too far in the open, echoing hall. “You, uh, you the one Cali told me to meet?”

Caleb nodded. “I- _ja_ , I am. I take it you are Mr Fjord?”

“Just Fjord, please,” Fjord said, offering a hand. “I’m the assistant director to Mr Mercer. He rarely leaves his office so I do most of the meet ‘n greets around here.” He gave Caleb a grin, revealing the points of his tusks, and Caleb found him smiling back almost automatically. This, all of this, was almost automatic. He knew how to be professional. He knew how to be polite. He reached out for Fjord’s hand, squeezing slightly as he let years of practise of a ‘proper business handshake’ take over; _lift up, drop down, release_.

“Caleb,” he replied. “Caleb Widogast. And this is Frumpkin,” he added, inclining his head towards the cat perched on his shoulder. Frumpkin gave a soft _mrrp_ , and Caleb felt his weight shifting slightly as his attention turned towards Fjord.

Fjord’s gaze flittered up. “Ah,” he said. He shook Caleb’s hand and then released it, stepping back slightly. “This is- this is your service animal, right? The one you mentioned in your email?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb said, “he is.” He wasn’t going to be nervous about this question. He _wasn’t_. He knew what was permitted, and what was allowed, and he knew that it was entirely legal for him to have Frumpkin with him.

Fjord nodded. “And is he, uh… is he always with you?”

Caleb narrowed his eyes, feeling confusion and concern starting to edge along his nerves. “…More or less,” he said eventually. It was the best answer he could think to give. In truth, Frumpkin was very rarely far from his side – even at home, where Frumpkin was technically off-duty and was allowed to wander around free from the restraints of his vest, he was still never very far away. Caleb’s new home was far from large, and even when off-duty Frumpkin tended to stick close-by. After all, he knew what his master was like. He knew how anxious Caleb could get in new environments. “He is- _ja_ , while I am at work, he will always be with me.”

“Hm,” Fjord hummed, frowning a little. “That’s- hm.”

Caleb didn’t like the sound of those _hm_ s. “Is that- is that a problem?” he asked, feeling his palms starting to sweat. “I had- I have all of his papers and qualifications with me in case you need to see them. I emailed them with my application, though, so you should have a copy-”

“No, no, yeah, we do,” Fjord interrupted quickly. “I- yeah, that’s all good, I’m just…” He trailed off, giving a small cough as he glanced to one side. “I’m just… allergies, y’know?”

“Ah.” There was an awkward pause. “He is a hypoallergenic breed, though,” Caleb added after a while. “So it should not be too bad.”

“Yeah, no, I mean I’m currently wheezin’ like a madman, so- yeah.” Fjord coughed again, seemly off-balance, and looked back at Caleb. Caleb wasn’t sure what expression was on his face, but it became apparently the moment Fjord caught sight of it – his own face smoothed out, quickly becoming almost apologetic. “Don’t you worry, though, I did all my reading when we confirmed your position. I know all his rights and stuff,” Fjord assured him quickly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Made sure to pass it ‘round everyone else, too. Jester might try and snag a picture of him and honestly I’m not too sure how Nott will react – she can be a little bit odd sometimes, but in a good way – but everyone should be on their best behaviour with him. If they’re not, you just come find me and let me know, alright?”

Caleb blinked. That was… in all honesty, that was much more than he was expecting. “I- _ja_ , alright,” he managed. “I will be sure to do that, Mr Fjord.”

“Great. In that case, I guess I might as well show you where to go. And just Fjord, please,” said Fjord, half-turning and starting to lead Caleb through the museum. “’Mr Fjord’ gives me the heebie-jeebies. Makes me sound like I should be a- a teacher or something, y’know? Makes me sound all serious and professional and stuff.”

“…You _are_ the assistant director.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I get that. My name is on my office door and all that- all that doohickey. I’m just sayin’ that I don’t want to sound like a teacher. Or a- a lawyer, or something of that ilk.”

“Ah,” Caleb said. “I understand.”

He didn’t.

He continued to follow Fjord as the half-orc led the way through the museum, doing his best to commit the path he took to memory. He was well aware that this museum, like the vast majority of museums, almost certainly had any number of staff entrances hidden around the place, tucked away behind pillars or in unexpected corners, but it was likely that this path that Fjord was taking was better by some as-yet unknown metric. Eventually, Fjord stopped by a little door neatly hidden by a nook in the walls. Even with the number pad resting to one side of it it looked unassuming, unimpressive and easy to miss.

“So,” Fjord said, “here we are. You’re going to be needing this.” He reached into his pocket, withdrawing an ID card that he quickly passed to Caleb. “Code is 0228,” he added. He stepped aside, gesturing towards the door with a wave that would not look out of place in a circus tent. “I feel you should be the one to do the honours. Swipe the card, punch the number, and head on in. Simple as.”

Caleb nodded, stepping up to the door. It was the work of a moment for him to follow Fjord’s instructions, his fingers dancing over the number pad before the little blinking light above it turned green. There was a soft _thunk_ as the door unlocked. Caleb reached out, turned the handle, and stepped through into an altogether different space.

As anyone who had ever worked in such a setting would know, the private side of a museum is a different world entirely to the public side, in a manner that could occasionally put you in mind of a swan – the public half drifts along looking all serene and regal, generally being pretty and tidy and getting put on postcards, and then beneath the water the private half is doing a hell of a lot of work to keep the whole thing looking as lovely as it does.

It was the private half of the museum that Caleb entered into now, and it was immediately a much more familiar space to him.

The corridor he stepped into was small and narrow, stretching away to either side of him. The wall immediately before him was periodically broken up by windows, fossilised spiderwebs adorning their corners and casting faint shadows in the sunlight that streamed through them.

He heard Fjord step through after him, the door swinging shut with a quiet _click_. Immediately, the background sound of the museum itself was cut off, replaced instead with the strange, tinny humming of fluorescent lights and the soft, gentle rumbling of background systems performing their standard tasks. It sounded, in all honesty, like pretty much every other museum that Caleb had worked at before – if he strained he could just about hear the distant sound of voices, but they were faint, and were shortly drowned out by Fjord’s footsteps as he started walking.

“It’s a bit of a maze back here,” Fjord remarked conversationally, leading the way along the corridor. “Like, not here, obviously, this is just the connecting corridor between the wings, but once you get _into_ the wings themselves it’s a fuckin’ nightmare, I’ll tell you that much. I still get lost from time to time. There’s a couple of maps dotted around the place to show where all the fire escapes are and stuff, but don’t be surprised if you get lost during your first few weeks. Just knock on the nearest door – whoever it is should be able to help you out.”

Caleb hummed. “Thank you, but I do not think I will need to do that very often.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“I have a photographic memory.”

“Oh!” Fjord paused, glancing over at Caleb. A little half-smile tugged at his lips, his expression morphing into something that could almost be impressed. “Well, damn. Ain’t that handy!”

“It has come in useful before.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Fjord laughed quietly, shaking his head before he continued walking. “Damn,” he muttered again. “You lucky bastard. You’re going to show us all up. Even Beau took, man, I want to say about a week to learn the layout, and she’s whip-smart.”

“Beau?”

“Beauregard. She’s our intern-wrangler. Well, intern and volunteer manager, technically,” Fjord explained, turning a corner into a different corridor. “She can be a bit… abrasive, but she means well. Normally. Unless she’s feuding with Jester or Nott, in which case it’s best to just leave them to it.”

“I- alright.”

“They normally feud about stupid shit, too. Like, which shoe you should lace up first.”

“…That can cause a _feud_?”

“If you’re Nott, or Beau, or Jester, sure. They can be, uh, _opinionated_.” Fjord glanced over at Caleb, spotting the expression on his face. “Not in a bad way!” he added quickly. “Just in a little bit of a weird way.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, slowing to a stop as Fjord paused by a door. “Weirder than the majority of people who work in a museum?”

That gave Fjord pause. “N-no…” he said eventually. “I mean- no, not really, they’re just- it’s a different _kind_ of weird, you feel me? Like- I don’t know, you’ll find out when you meet them. They’re good people, though. Just weird.”

Caleb nodded. He could handle ‘weird’. He could _definitely_ handle weird, and was in fact pretty certain that he counted as weird himself.

“Anyway,” Fjord continued, pushing open the door to reveal a not small, but certainly not large office. “This is you.”

Caleb hummed quietly, reaching up almost absently to unclip Frumpkin and help him down from his shoulder as he looked around the space. It was a pleasant enough little room; warm autumn sunlight streamed through the window positioned between the two desks that stood on either side of the room, painting lines of gold across the floor and catching on the little desk labels. One side of the room looked to be freshly cleared out – the shelves behind the desk were all blank and empty, though Caleb had no doubt that the filing cabinets resting beneath them would be full of important paperwork that he would have to familiarise himself with, and there were no signs of any personal belongings adorning the desk or the one half of the windowsill that _wasn’t_ covered in a collection of small, sparkling glass jars. From what Caleb could see at this distance, they all looked to be full of buttons.

“The library and archives are next door - this here’s your office,” Fjord explained, leading the way inside. “You’re sharing it with Nott – she’s our slide librarian.”

“Nott?” Caleb asked, stepping into the room after Fjord and frowning at the desk labels. In the emails he’d received from the museum’s curator, he’d been told that he would be sharing an office with the slide librarian Veth Brenatto. Even now, looking at the desk labels, he saw no indication of anyone called ‘Nott’ - the one on the empty side of the room was entirely blank, and the one on the side of the room that looked like the lair of a small but eclectic dragon definitely read ‘Veth Brenatto’. “Who is, ah, who is Nott?”

“Hm?” Fjord hummed, looking around absently for a second before blinking and abruptly turning back to face Caleb. “Oh, right! Yeah, I suppose you don’t know about that.” He reached up, scratching at the back of his neck as he nodded towards the dragon-hoard side of the room. “Nott is… well, Nott _is_ Veth, y’know? It’s our, uh, nickname for her.” There was a pause as Caleb frowned to himself. Fjord sighed. “It makes more sense with context,” he muttered, dropping his hand again. “I’ll- you know what, I’m sure she’ll explain it to you soon enough. Or Beau will. Or Jester.”

“You seem to mention those three a lot,” Caleb remarked absently, his attention starting to drift as Frumpkin trotted across the floor, nose down to the ground as he sniffed around the room.

“Well, we all kinda- we all hang out a lot together. Me ‘n Jessie, and Beau, and Nott, and some of the others. You’ll probably meet ‘em pretty soon. They’re probably in the break room…”

Caleb hummed, continuing to watch Frumpkin. He was aware that Fjord was still speaking but, right now, it wasn’t exactly something that he was focusing on. He _couldn’t_ , not now. Not when Frumpkin was working.

Almost absently, Caleb drew in a breath, letting the air settle in his lungs. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to smell what Frumpkin was looking for – that was part of the reason why he had Frumpkin, after all, but it helped all the same. The air here smelled comforting, somehow; like the rest of the museum it held that same soft, almost papery smell of years of compounded time. It was the sort of smell you got in old cathedrals, in houses that had long since been turned into museums in their own rights. It smelled _old_ , like wood and polish and the memories of a hundred other people.

To Caleb, it smelled familiar.

He let his gaze drift around the room as Fjord continued to talk, listing to the more familiar explanations of what his job would entail. Nothing about it was a surprise to him – he’d worked in museum libraries before, and aside from a few differences between collection management methods and a couple of strange, bizarre intricacies present in every museum, it was all familiar to him. He’d read the emails and job posting on the website. He’d done his research. He was ready, and he was prepared, and this was going to be good for him. He was sure of it.  

Fjord abruptly cleared his throat, catching Caleb’s attention.

“Caleb?” Fjord asked. “Is, uh, is Frumpkin…” Fjord trailed off, gesturing down to where Frumpkin was sniffing industriously along every wall of the room, leaping up onto the desks and filing cabinets to investigate particular areas. “Is he- does he normally do that?”

Caleb swallowed. He didn’t… he didn’t want to explain exactly what Frumpkin was doing, or _why_. Not yet. Not now. The finer details of Frumpkin’s job, the exact nature of Caleb’s dependency on him, could all be explained later, when it actually needed to be out in the open. _When I actually know the people I am working with_. “He is… he is working,” he said eventually. It wasn’t a lie. “This is- he will return to me shortly. This is just his standard procedure for a new environment.”

“Checkin’ for something?”

“Something like that, _ja_.”

Fjord shrugged, and Caleb felt the growing knot in his stomach loosen. “Alright then,” Fjord replied. “Just so long as he doesn’t knock anything over. Can’t imagine Nott’d be pleased if she came back here and it turned out that Frumpkin had messed up her collection or something.”

“Frumpkin is very careful,” Caleb replied, his voice growing absent as Frumpkin paused at a corner of a room. For one brief, horrible moment Caleb thought that he had found something, that he had picked up on something, but then the moment passed and Frumpkin continued, his tail flicking absently as he worked. _It’s okay_ , Caleb told himself quietly, feeling his heart starting to settle. _It’s okay, it’s alright. He would have meowed if something was amiss. You know this_.

Frumpkin took another minute or so to finish inspecting the room, carefully inspecting every corner and wall before he trotted back to Caleb and nudged his head against Caleb’s leg. Almost immediately Caleb felt himself calm, what worry and anxiety had been lingering at the edges of his nerves fading as Frumpkin gave him the okay-signal. “ _Danke_ ,” he murmured quietly, as he always did. He reached down, clipping Frumpkin’s lead back onto his harness, and lifted the cat back up to his shoulders, waiting for him to settle down before turning to Fjord. “He is finished,” he informed Fjord. “It is- he has done what he needs to do.”

“Yeah?” asked Fjord, still sounding rather confused. “He- yeah, alright, cool. That’s- that’s good. You ready to keep on with the tour?”

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_.”

“Great. I figured we could drop by Caduceus on the way, see if he wants to tag along en route to the break room. Mycology is right close to the break room – no, don’t ask me why, I don’t know.” Caleb shut his mouth. “As I said – this place is a damn maze,” Fjord continued, starting to lead the way out of Caleb’s new office. Caleb followed quietly, glancing around the corridors as they continued to walk. Most of the doors were labelled but some weren’t, and those that were labelled ranged from proper, professional, engraved bronze plates, to little plastic card-holders, to what looked like post-it notes held on with duct tape and hope. Somehow, those last few labels only endeared Caleb to the museum further. He liked that it was a bit scruffy. It felt lived-in. It felt _alive_.

After a while, they drew to a stop outside another door, this one proudly bearing a printed sheet of paper that declared it to be the mycology department. Someone had, at some later point, added little doodles of smiling mushrooms to it.

“Mycology,” Fjord said unnecessarily, knocking on the door once before pushing it open. The room it revealed seemed almost entirely deserted – the only person visible beneath the bright white lights was a firbolg, sitting at a desk on the far side of the room, peering closely at something before him. With the firbolg’s back to them, Caleb couldn’t see much beyond a fuzzy-looking beige sweater and the firbolg’s soft pink hair, done up in a messy bun at the back of his head that was made just a bit lop-sided by the fact that one side of his head was shaved down to nothing more than pink fuzz.

Fjord whistled, the sudden sound making Caleb jump. “Hey, Deucey!” Across the room, the firbolg’s head lifted, revealing a gentle-looking face with a pair of surprisingly piercing pale pink eyes. Fjord nodded towards Caleb, inclining his head out towards the hallway. “Me ‘n Caleb here are headed to the break room to say hi to whoever’s there and hopefully pick up Nott. You want to tag along?”

There was a pause. The firbolg blinked. And then, in a voice that sounded like gravel if gravel had been made from velvet, he said, ‘Sure, I might do that.’

“Oh, great. You can mediate if they start getting too sassy,” Fjord said. “Oh, and Caleb, this is Caduceus Clay. He’s our assistant curator of mycology, resident dermestid-keeper and… well, a whole host of other things.”

The firbolg smiled, unfolding himself from his chair. It was a surprisingly graceful movement, for all that Caduceus looked like he was made of particularly brittle twigs covered with a fine layer of pale grey fur. He crossed the room in a few long strides, brushing a loose strand of pink hair back behind his ear as he did so. Caleb couldn’t quite tell if the colour was natural or not, but either way it suited him. It matched the little flowers embroidered on his trousers.

Caduceus was also, Caleb realised absently as he drew closer, very, _very_ tall. Seven feet, easily, though the faint hunch in his spine and the soft, gentle colours that he wore seemed to make him appear smaller. It was only when Caleb forced his feet to move, stepping up before him, that the true height difference became apparent. _Gods_. Caleb didn’t think he’d met anyone that tall in his entire life.

"Dr Clay, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, holding out his hand. He hadn't been told if Caduceus was a doctor, but he assumed that, like the vast majority of curators, he'd picked up a PhD at some point in his life. It just seemed to be the done thing. "I, ah, I am Caleb Widogast."

Before him, Caduceus smiled. It was a very nice smile, slow and soft like dawning sunlight, and Caleb found himself staring almost without meaning to. Caduceus reached out and took Caleb's hand, squeezing it gently; against Caleb's palm, his skin felt unexpectedly soft, furred and gentle like the skin of a peach. "Pleasure to meet you too, Mr Widogast," Caduceus replied. "But, please, call me Caduceus. Dr Clay is my father."

Caleb smiled back. It was a small smile, barely more than a twitch of his lips, but he couldn’t help it. Something about Caduceus was almost comforting, for all that he physically dwarfed Caleb, and his slow, soft smile made Caleb want to smile back. It made him want to befriend this strange assistant curator. “If I must call you Caduceus then I insist that you call me Caleb,” he replied, shaking Caduceus’ hand.

“Oh, sure, I can do that,” Caduceus said. His voice was soft, slow and rumbling, and every word that he spoke gave the distinct impression that he’d mulled over it for quite a while before so much as considering speaking it aloud. “Caleb. That’s a good name.”

Caleb blinked. “ _Ja_?”

“Yeah. It means ‘faithful’. That’s a good meaning to have in your name.”

“I- _danke_.”

Caduceus grinned again. “I have no idea what that means,” he replied.

“Oh! It is- it is Zemnian. It means ‘thank you’.”

“Oh.” Caduceus paused. “Yeah, I suppose that would make sense. Huh. That’s real neat.” He finally dropped Caleb’s hand, his hands slipping into his pockets as he turned towards Fjord. “You said the break room, yeah?” Fjord nodded. “Great. I’ve got some things I need to pick up from the fridge.”

Fjord sighed. “Please tell me it’s not a bird.”

“It’s not a bird,” Caduceus replied easily, following Fjord as he started to leave. “It’s much better than a bird. It’s soup. I’m trying a new recipe.”

Fjord glanced at him. “Uh-huh,” he said, and then they lapsed into silence.

They moved along the corridors in a peaceful sort of quiet, with only the sound of their footsteps to interrupt the still, timeless air. It was unexpectedly nice, Caleb found. It somehow didn’t feel awkward, for all that he was trailing after two relative strangers with a cat draped around his neck, in a place he’d never been to before. The museum felt- well, not familiar, not yet, but _homely_. Comfortable. It felt, unlike the museum in Rexxentrum, like a place that Caleb could actually come to love. Like a place that he could really, truly settle into. The museum was just nice.

Caleb glanced up, his eyes briefly resting on Caduceus. The people were nice, too.

Eventually, the distant sound of voices raised in an argument reached them.

“I’m just pointing out,” a voice was saying loudly, “no, fuck off, you _know_ I’m fucking right – I’m just pointing out that it’s weird, okay! It’s really weird!” The voice echoed down the hall, a little bit muffled by distance, but distinct and clear all the same.

“You do it too, though, Beau!” replied a different voice. This one sounded more indignant than offended, the words tinged with an accent that put Caleb in mind of the Menagerie Coast. “So does Molly! And Nott!”

“My point exactly. They’re both fuckin’ weird. No offense, Nott.”

“None taken.”

“I would say no offense to Molly, too, but the fucker is _still_ off doing his- his fuckin’- his _thing_ , y’know? And besides, I bet he would agree with me that it’s weird.”

“It’s _normal_ , though.”

“Normal can still be weird.”

“This isn’t weird, though, Beau!”

The first speaker gave a sigh. Even from this distance, it sounded distinctly long-suffering. “ _Jessie_.”

“What?”

“You’re just- you’re fuckin- _no_.”

Next to Caleb, Caduceus gave a quiet hum. “What do you think they’re arguing about?” he asked, leaning down a little to be closer to Caleb. Caleb shrugged.

“It could be anything,” he replied. “I do not- I have not met these people yet, Caduceus.”

“Oh?”

“ _Nein_. You are- apart from Fjord, you are the first other employee that I have met.”

There was a pause. Caleb glanced up, meeting Caduceus’s gaze as his face morphed into a slow, warm smile. “Oh,” he said. “Well, that’s nice. I hope I made a good impression.”

Caleb smiles back. He can’t help it. “You did. You are very, ah, very welcoming.”

“Am I?” Caduceus replied, sounding delighted. “That’s good to know. Thank you.”

Caleb shrugged, and felt his smile grow wider. Caduceus was _nice_.

From down the corridor, the voices were still arguing, only growing louder as they approached a door that Caleb could now see was labelled ‘break room’. Beneath the label reading ‘break room’, there was a smaller label. The smaller label read, in hastily written capital letters: ‘ABSOLUTELY NO BIRDS TO BE LEFT IN THE FREEZER’. Fjord pushed open the door, revealing a pleasantly-furnished room populated by a human, a tiefling, and a halfling, all of whom appeared to be engaged in an intensely serious debate.

“Listen to me!” the human was saying, leaning forwards and pointing a finger towards the blue-skinned tiefling sat on the couch opposite her. “It’s weird, alright? I don’t care if it tastes good or not – it’s still fuckin’ weird, and anyone who does it is automatically a weirdo, myself included. _But what’s important_ is _acknowledging_ that it’s weird. I’m not saying to stop doing it, okay? I’m just saying that it’s weird _and_ good. It can be both.”

The tiefling narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Hmm,” she said, sniffing dismissively. “Maybe. You’re still wrong, though.”

“Oh, what the f-”

“ _Ahem_ ,” said Fjord, giving the loudest, most false-sounding cough that Caleb had ever heard.

The halfling looked up. “Fjord!” she exclaimed, her button earring swinging as she turned her head. “Tell Beau that she’s wrong!”

Fjord sighed. “What’s the argument about this time?”

“Dipping your fries in milkshakes,” Beau said. “Weird, or not weird?”

“Gross,” Fjord replied. “Gross, _and_ weird, and practically gods-damn unholy, alright? Now shut up for a second, will you? I was just dropping by to introduce our _lovely_ new librarian to all of you disasters.” He raised a hand, indicating the tiefling, the human, and the halfling in order. “Caleb, this is Jester, Beau, and Nott- sorry, Veth. Jester’s our exhibit artist, Beau’s our intern and volunteer manager, as I said, and Nott’s the slide librarian. All of you lot, meet Caleb Widogast.”

Caleb raised a hand awkwardly. “Ah, _hallo_.”

“You are all to be very nice to him and _not_ scare him off in his first week, alright?” Fjord continued. “We all need a librarian and you know it. Any questions?”

“ _What’s your cat called?”_ Jester shouted out immediately, sticking her hand in the air and waving it wildly. “He’s super cute! What’s his name? Can I pet him?”

“ _Jester!_ ” Fjord hissed.

“What?”

“He is, ah, his name is Frumpkin,” Caleb interrupted quietly, drawing Jester’s attention back to him. “But you cannot pet him, sorry. He is working right now.”

“Aww,” said Jester, visibly deflating, but barely a second passed before she perked back up again. “Ooh! Can I take a picture of him instead? Would that be alright?”

“I, um, I suppose that would be alright,” replied Caleb, briefly overwhelmed by the sheer bubbliness that Jester seemed to exude. Jester grinned at him, practically leaping up from the couch to bounce over to him, tugging her phone – and it’s attached lethal weapon’s worth of phone charms – out from the pocket of her dungarees.

“He’s super cute,” she said happily, raising her phone and snapping some pictures. “And I really like his little jacket.”

“You- _ja_?” Caleb heard himself asking.

“Yeah! It’s like, _super_ cute, and super adorable, you know?”

“It is, um, it is just his working harness.”

“It would look good with polka dots.” Jester lowered her phone. “Thank you for letting me take pictures, Caleb!”

“Of course,” Caleb replied, unable to think of any other suitable response. There was a brief, uncertain pause.

“So,” Beau said suddenly, breaking the growing silence. “Caleb. New guy. I got a question for you.”

Caleb looked to her. “ _Ja_?”

Beau leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her knees, and fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Yeah,” she said. “What are your thoughts on fries dipped in milkshakes?”

And then, just like that, there was conversation again. Caleb found himself quickly tugged down onto a couch by Jester, and within moments he was squeezed in by Jester on one side and Caduceus on the other. It was a close fit, their knees knocking together as Jester leaned forwards excitedly to talk, but it somehow wasn’t _bad_. The anxiety that Caleb so often felt in social situations was present, yes, but it was lessened somehow, because none of the others seemed to care that he was new. They didn’t seem to care that he had a cat sitting on his shoulders, or that the cat was dressed in a fluorescent yellow harness. They just accepted him, and acknowledged him, and occasionally asked for his opinions on what food combinations were good, which were weird, and which should be illegal.

Caleb was quickly getting the impression that they all had rather strong opinions on this topic.

It was some thirty minutes later that Fjord clapped his hands together loudly, standing from the couch.

“Right, that’s enough yammerin’,” he said. “We’ve all got jobs to do – don’t look at me like that, Beau, you fuckin’ _volunteered_ to be the volunteer manager – so we better get back to work. Nott, mind showin’ Caleb back to the office?”

“I can do that,” Nott said, standing from the couch and beckoning to Caleb. “Come on, lanky. I need to make sure you don’t get lost.”

“I, um, I actually have a photographic memory-” Caleb pointed out, even as Nott led the way back into the corridor. “So I will not- I cannot get lost. I can remember things perfectly for up to a month.”

“Really?”

“Oh, _ja_. I have been able to for my entire life.”

“…Wow.”

“Mm. It comes in very useful for a lot of board games.”

Nott visibly perked up at that. “Really? How?”

“Well,” Caleb started to explain, “if there is a game where you need to keep in mind a lot of pieces of information, or you need to try to remember the location of objects, having a perfect memory helps a lot with that.”

“Have you ever used it to cheat?”

“I- well- it is not cheating if it is something I can naturally do-”

“ _Caleb_.”

Caleb smiled. “… perhaps,” he admitted, and Nott laughed brightly, her voice echoing down the hallway. She reached up, patting Caleb as high on his back as she could manage.

“We’re going to get on like a house on fire,” she commented happily. “I can _feel_ it.”

\---

The day passed.

It didn’t take long for Caleb to get settled down once he returned to the office alongside Nott, listening to her chattering away and occasionally asking the odd question until they reached their little shared room. He unclipped Frumpkin and set him down on the floor the moment they were both inside, providing him with the food and water that was always in his bag, and then got to work on familiarising himself with the new system he would need to work with. It was dull, familiar work, and the day passed in a comfortable blur of conversation and the gently mind-bending work of understanding the complex filing system that the old librarian had apparently decided to enforce. It was only when the clock was drawing close to 5pm that a knock came at the door, startling Caleb out of his filing system-induced fugue.

“Come in, Beau,” Nott called without looking up from her desk.

The door swung open. “How the fuck do you always know that it’s me?” Beau asked, wandering in and leaning back against a wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “I mean, seriously! You _always_ fuckin’ know that it’s me knocking. It’s creepy.”

“It’s because you knock on doors like you’re trying to punch them off their hinges,” Nott replied. She finished tidying something on her desk and then looked up, meeting Beau’s gaze. “What do you want?”

Beau shrugged. “Nothing,” she replied. “I was just going to say that myself and some of the others were thinking of heading out for drinks after work. Sort of a, a _celebration_ of not having Dairon- of having Caleb as our new librarian, y’know? So, we figured we’d check if you wanted to tag along.” Her eyes narrowed, gaze darting to Caleb as a grin crossed her face. “Except for you. It’s kind of mandatory for you to come, at least for a little bit. I don’t make the rules.”

“Yes, you do,” Caleb heard Nott muttering. “You _literally_ came up with them with Jester.”

“I don’t write the rules.”

“You wrote them on a piece of paper and then got it laminated so you could stick it to the microwave-”

“If you come with us, Nott will buy your first drink as a welcome present.”

Nott gave a shocked gasp. “ _Beau_!”

Beau looked over at her, only grinning wider. “Got a problem with that? You still owe me a drink, remember?”

“I owe _you_ a drink. I don’t owe Caleb anything.”

Beau shrugged. “Then buy me a drink and I’ll give it to Caleb. _Either way_ ,” she added, turning her attention back towards Caleb, “your first drink is free, alright? So what do you say?” Behind her, Caleb could see Nott roll her eyes and stand from her desk, tugging on her coat and grumbling to herself quietly as she left, though it seemed like she just stopped outside the door. At least, Caleb couldn’t hear her footsteps moving away down the corridor.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement.

“ _Caleb_ ,” Beau said again, catching his attention. “What do you say? You. Us. The squad, such as we are. Drinking, merrymaking, _free drinks_ , and general, y’know, _workplace bonding_. You coming or what?”

Caleb considered this. He had never really been one for- well, for socialising in general, and certainly not in places like bars, where everything was loud and there were countless threads of conversation and, above all, there was no possible way for Frumpkin to investigate every corner in order to make Caleb feel secure and safe. In bars, he just had to hope that the smell of- that Frumpkin would still be able to work and focus above the chatter and the smells of alcohol and countless people. In bars, he just had to accept that he would always be at least slightly on-edge.

In bars, with others, when he was in a new place, in a new city, staying in a new home with an entirely new group of colleagues, he would be far from his most relaxed.

But at the same time…

At the same time, he was determined to actually make an effort here. He’d moved practically from one side of the country to the other, uprooting his old life with every intention of creating a new one here. He’d told himself that he was going to put down roots, that he was going to actually _interact_ with people, and he doubted he was going to get a better opportunity than this. He was out-right being invited to join whatever small group of weirdos it was that he’d inadvertently fallen in with and, from what he’d experienced of them so far, they all seemed to be… well, _decent_. Nice. Understanding without being prying, accepting the cat on his shoulder without question and making him feel immediately welcome, enfolded into their group without so much as a hiccup. He already felt like he belonged here, for all that he’d been at the museum for roughly eight hours. It was nice. _They_ were nice.

_You will not get an opportunity better than this_.

Caleb looked up at Beau. “Yes,” he said decisively. “I will- _ja_ , I will join you.”

“ _Fuck_ yeah, dude!” Beau leaned over, punching him lightly on the arm. “Sweet!” She leaned back, shouting out of the door. “Nott! You owe Caleb a drink! I’m giving him your IOU!”

From the corridor, there came a noise. It sounded like a certain button-adorned halfling shouting ‘ _fuck you!_ ’

Beau laughed. “Fuckin’ asshole,” she said, but her voice was fond. “Caleb, you get your shit together and I’ll meet you outside in the corridor, alright? Don’t want you getting lost or whatever. Fjord would never let me hear the end of it if I _lost_ our new librarian.”

“Fjord is coming?” Caleb asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Beau replied cheerfully. “Dude might be assistant director or whatever but he’s a part of the asshole gang whether he likes it or not.”

“The… the asshole gang?”

“Yeah! Me, Nott, Fjord, Jessie, Yasha, Molly – whenever he’s about and not off fuckin’ _gallivanting_ , or whatever it is that he does – and Deuces, even though he’s the only one of us who’s not an asshole.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, feeling a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If I am being invited to join you and the, ah, _asshole gang,_ what does that make me?”

“Fresh meat,” Beau answered immediately. She leaned over, clapping him on the shoulder, and then turned to leave, calling back to him over her shoulder. “Now come on, Widogast! Don’t leave me waiting!”

The door shut behind her with a soft _click_ , leaving Caleb alone in his office. For a moment he just sat there in the silence, listening to the muffled sound of Beau and Nott trading words before Nott presumably headed off down the corridor to meet the others. She was a strange individual, he felt, but a good one. She seemed like a good person, in the short length of time that he’d spent with her so far. He felt that, given time, they could possibly grow to become friends.

He’d like that, he realised. He’d like that quite a lot. This place, this museum… he had only been for a day and yet already it felt familiar to him, safe and comfortable as if he’d been here all his life. It didn’t feel at all like the museum he’d left in Rexxentrum, where everything was so exacting and precise, neat and ordered to the point of being stifling. This museum had life, had _character_.

And, now, it was his museum too.

Caleb smiled to himself, looking up and over to where Frumpkin was sat on one of the filing cabinets, his tail flicking lazily back and forth. He clicked his tongue, calling Frumpkin over to him, and reached for the cat’s leash at the same time, reaching out to clip it onto his harness as soon as he was close enough.

“Come on,” he said, still smiling to himself. “It seems we have to go out and socialise, _ja_?”

Frumpkin didn’t meow, aware that he was technically on-duty, but gave a soft purr instead, nudging his forehead against Caleb’s chest before leaping up to his shoulder, making himself comfortable as Caleb laughed quietly. Caleb rose, grabbing up his scarf and coat and swinging them on, and then, giving one last glance back into his new office, stepped out into the hallway.

Across the corridor, Beau was waiting for him. The moment she laid eyes on Caleb she smiled again, pushing off the wall and walking over to meet him. “You all good?” she asked.

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_ ,” he replied. “I am- I am good.”

“Great.” She grinned wider. “Come on, Widogast. It’s time we all got to properly know you.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back, and I’m back with yet another modern AU! Thank you for reading the first chapter of The Mycelium Effect – I hope you liked it! If you did, please feel free to leave a comment. They give me life and help fuel the writing motivation ^-^
> 
> I’m going to aim to update this fic **every Monday** at approximately 10am GMT, though this time will change once summer ends and I start working. (Little side note to those who read Twine and remember me talking about uni – I graduated! With a first class degree! And my dissertation won a prize!!)
> 
> The beautiful art in this chapter was done by [Heidi](https://twitter.com/heidzdraws), [Alarnia](https://twitter.com/alarnia), and [Killian](https://twitter.com/killianbillion)!
> 
> The next chapter will go up on **June 17th!**


	2. Chapter 2

The bar was called The Invulnerable Vagrant. It was small, and crowded, and the sounds of conversation and laughter hit Caleb like a physical wall as Beau pulled the door open ahead of them, pressing against his ears and making him wince. He rarely did well in loud places, where warning signs could so easily be hidden behind the sheer volume of noise, but he forced himself to breathe as Beau started to stride purposefully through the crowd. He was fine here. He _had_ to be fine here. It was a new place, and there was no way that Frumpkin could perform his usual checks, and he would be entirely unable to hear _any_ of the sounds that he was always subconsciously on the alert for over the ceaseless babble of voices, but it was fine. It had to be fine. Beau clearly trusted this place and the building had looked well-maintained from the outside, the paint all bright and fresh and the windows sparkling clear. This place was safe. It was alright.

It had to be alright.

Caleb felt Frumpkin tap gently at his neck and forced himself to breathe in, suddenly aware of how he’d been holding his breath. The air settled in his lungs, tasting of the vague, indescribable smell that all bars seemed to eventually accumulate. Against his legs, Nott gave a gentle nudge.

“It’s alright,” she said when he looked down, meeting her wide, dark eyes. “Nothing to worry about, I promise. You’ve already met pretty much everyone, and Yasha’s only a _tiny_ bit scary.”

Caleb blinked, and then remembered. Oh, yes. Yasha. Beau had mentioned as they’d been walking to the bar that Fjord, Jester, and Caduceus had gone on ahead, meeting up with someone she’d called ‘Yasha’.

Nott started to lead the way into the bar, following after Beau who’d heading inside without a second glance. She paused briefly, making sure that Caleb was following, and then continued, leading him over to one corner of the room. As Caleb followed her through the crowd he could see his new colleagues gathered around a table, a person who he didn’t recognise squished in between Fjord and Caduceus. He could only assume that this person was Yasha – she looked small, sitting next to Caduceus, but Caleb got the impression that everyone did, and her dark hair turned white at the tips, the countless braids woven through it brushing against her arm as she raised her drink to her lips.

Nott seemed to follow his gaze.

“That’s Yasha!” she confirmed, stretching up slightly towards him. “She does security and sometimes helps out with bringing in new specimens if they’re big. She carried a wolf from Beau’s truck to the prep room all by herself one time. It was very impressive.”

Caleb blinked, looking back towards the woman. Now that he was looking for them, he could see the muscles shifting beneath her shirt. All of a sudden, she didn’t look nearly as small as Caduceus' height had made her look. On the contrary – she looked like she could snap Caduceus like a twig, although, really, that wasn’t saying much. Even beneath the thick fabric of his sweater, it was clear that Caduceus was on the scrawny side of slender. But then again, unlike with other departments such as the mammals, Caleb couldn’t picture a mycology department having to haul around particularly heavy specimens.

And besides, scrawny or not, Caduceus looked… good. The thought was an absent one, fleeting and immaterial, and it left Caleb’s mind as soon as it entered, disturbed by the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Caleb!” Fjord called, waving a hand in greeting and catching Caleb’s eye. His voice managed to cut over the background noise, loud and clear despite the babble of countless conversations. “C’mon, take a seat! There’s space next to Caduceus!”

Nott scurried up to the table as he spoke, squeezing herself into a space between Jester and Beau that Caleb was certain hadn’t existed two seconds ago. She was quick to make herself comfortable, settling down between her friends. Almost absently, Caleb wondered how long it would take him to feel as comfortable amongst the group. Even after years spent at Rexxentrum, there had only been a few people he had been entirely comfortable around.

Up until a certain point at least.

Caleb slipped into the free space at the end of the row, his shoulders nudging gently against Caduceus' as he did so. The semi-circle of padded, bench-like seats they were sitting on was large, but it evidently wasn’t designed with quite so many people in mind – even with Nott’s small stature and Caduceus' slender frame it was a bit of a tight fit, with elbows bumping and knees knocking, but no one seemed to mind. As Caleb watched, Beau threw an arm along the back of the row without a second thought, her fingertips just barely brushing against Yasha’s shoulder.

There was a brief moment as Frumpkin shifted a little on Caleb’s shoulders, getting himself comfortably positioned. Caduceus, somehow, barely seemed to notice the cat occasionally nosing at his side, and after a few moments both Caleb and Frumpkin were as settled as they were likely to be. _A new place_ , Caleb said to himself again. _A safe place_.

_Probably_.

“So,” Fjord said cheerfully, leaning over the table slightly to make himself heard and breaking Caleb’s distracted train of thought. “How was your first day? Good? Shit? I’m assumin’ it was at least adequate, seeing how you’re here and all, but I figured it would be best to check. Director-ing duties and all that.”

Despite himself, Caleb smiled. He found he rather liked Fjord, in the vague, impersonal sort of way that he liked everyone at the museum so far. He didn’t know him, and he didn’t trust him, but for now, at least, Fjord seemed decent. He seemed like he was actually, genuinely concerned about Caleb had found his first day.

“It- it was alright,” Caleb replied. “It- _ja_ , it was good.” He paused, thinking back to the actions of the day, and then added, “Although, your previous librarian evidently had a very, ah, _distinct_ manner of doing things.”

“Oh, yeah, Dairon,” said Fjord. “They were, uh… they sure were- they- I think they were part of some sort of, like, librarian’s club, or something like that. If I recall correctly, they were tryin’ to ‘optimise the system’.” Caleb could hear the quote marks clanging into place around the phrase. “They wanted to make it hyper-efficient, or something like that.”

“Like the DVORAK keyboard,” Caduceus added unexpectedly. Caleb started a little at the sound of his voice – here in the closeness and clamour of the bar it sounded impossibly deeper, more felt than heard. “Which I’m pretty certain that Dairon used, too. They always struck me as a DVORAK kind of person. Some people just are, you know?”

“Oh, _ja_ , I know!” Caleb couldn’t have stopped himself from speaking up if he’d tried. The moment the words left his mouth Caduceus turned to looked at him, his eyebrows raised in an expression of slight surprise.

“Yeah?” he asked, and Caleb nodded.

“Of course,” he replied. “There are some people who- you do not get a, a _vibe_ from them, but they still give off the impression that they use DVORAK.”

“I get vibes from them,” Caduceus said amicably.

“You get vibes from _everyone_ ,” Fjord muttered, but Caduceus didn’t seem to notice his words, or if he did, he didn’t respond to them. He just kept looking at Caleb, smiling in a small, soft sort of way, like DVORAK was some shared secret that they were both in on. Which, Caleb supposed, it was a bit, and Fjord’s next words only confirmed that. “What the fuck even is DVORAK, ‘Deuce?” Fjord asked.  “‘Cause you’ve mentioned it several times now, but I don’t recall you ever actually, uh, _enlightening_ me to whatever the fuck it is.”

Caleb met Caduceus' eyes. Caduceus smiled, leant back, and waved a hand towards Fjord. “Do the honours,” he said quietly, and Caleb felt himself smile wider.

“DVORAK,” he said, not wasting any time in getting to his explanation, “is a- it is- it is a different layout for a keyboard, designed to increase typing speed and decrease errors, you see? So, it puts more commonly used letters closer to or on the home row, and it positions keys in such a way to decrease travel distance.”

Across the table from him, Fjord blinked

“It is really very clever, and it can be very efficient and significantly faster than a standard keyboard once you are accustomed to it,” Caleb went on. From the corner of his eye, he could see Caduceus smiling. “But also, if you use DVORAK then you will have to reconfigure every keyboard that you use, and it is a very non-standard approach.” He smiled to himself, looking back at Caduceus, who caught his eye. “It is very efficient, but uncommon and somewhat indecipherable for an inexperienced user to use efficiently until they are accustomed to it.”

Caduceus nodded. “DVORAK vibes,” he added happily. “Just as I was saying.”

Fjord frowned, opening his mouth. “I… right,” he said slowly, every word cautious and almost uncertain. “I- yeah, okay, I’m following. What about Dairon gives you DVORAK vibes, though?”

“Their archiving structure,” Caleb said immediately. “They do- they have-” He trailed off, thinking once again about the entirely baffling, but no doubt highly efficient system he’d been trying to get his head around earlier. “They- you said their name was Dairon, _ja_?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Danke_. Dairon had a- their- they have a very particular archiving and storage system which strays somewhat from a number of norms. I have no doubt that they would have been extremely efficient at locating and retrieving texts from the libraries and archives with their system, but it is, sadly, a rather steep learning curve for someone like myself who has not encountered it before. Which is very DVORAK of them.”

“It _is_ ,” Caduceus agreed, and for the first time since meeting him Caleb thought he heard something akin to excitement creep into his normally calm voice. “I’m so glad you understand, Caleb. No one else in the asshole squad even knew what DVORAK was before I told them.”

“Some of us still don’t,” Fjord muttered quietly.

Caleb shrugged. “It is- it is an interesting concept,” he said. “I likely just picked up knowledge of it at some point. I will not deny that it is intriguing, though. After all, the standard keyboard layout was, I believe, technically designed to slow down typing speed.”

Caduceus blinked. “Yeah?”

“Mm, _ja_. It is based on the keyboard layout for typewriters, and if memory serves…” Caleb furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment. Shockingly, when he’d first learned about keyboard layouts from Eodwulf, he’d never expected that, one day, such knowledge would become crucial to a conversation about the librarian he was taking over from. “If memory serves, the typewriter keyboard layout was designed to slow down typing speed by being non-alphabetical in order to prevent keys from hitting each other and thus becoming jammed. If you typed too fast on a typewriter, you see, the mechanical components themselves would interlock and jam the whole system. So, the current layout was deliberately designed to be confusing and a bit shit, but then we never changed it. Really, our current keyboard is far from the most efficient one.” He shrugged. “I suppose that DVORAK users actually have the right idea.”

There was a pause. Caleb looked up at Caduceus, suddenly aware that he had been rambling a little bit, but instead of the annoyance he had half been expecting to see, all he saw was Caduceus giving a small, faint smile.

“Wow,” Caduceus said, still smiling. It was a nice smile, Caleb thought absently – it was small and soft, like a private, personal thing that was, at least in that moment, only for them. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. He also wasn’t entirely sure of how to interpret that feeling, whatever it was. “You really are full of surprises, aren’t you, Mr Widogast?”

Caleb blinked. “Oh?” he asked. “I hope they are good surprises.”

“They are,” Caduceus replied. In the soft, golden lights of the bar, his eyes were honey and rose. “I’m not certain about much, but I’m certain about that.” He paused, tilting his head a little so that his hair, now free from its bun, cascaded over one shoulder. “You strike me as a man with a lot of hidden depths,” he added quietly. “About DVORAK, and about other things.”

Caleb opened his mouth. “I-” he started, and then fell silent as a loud groan came from Beau’s direction.

“ _Jeez_ ,” Beau said, lifting her head from the table to glare at Caduceus. “ _Please_ tell me you haven’t got Caleb in on your- your weird keyboard thing. It’s been _one day_ , dude. Not even that, if we’re counting days in full 24-hour blocks. It’s been, like, _half_ a day, counting on that scale. A _third_ of a day.”

Caduceus appeared entirely unruffled. “DVORAK is not that weird,” he said, as calm as ever, and Beau gave another loud, dramatic groan. Behind her, Jester calmly rested an elbow on her back and leaned forwards to continue her conversation with Yasha.

“Not fuckin’ _DVORAK_ ,” Beau grumbled. “I- _fuck_ , Cad, no one fuckin’ knows what DVORAK is!”

“Caleb does.”

“…You’re lying.”

“I am not lying.”

“You are. You’ve gotta be. I refuse to accept that we lose Dairon, who simultaneously kicks my ass at training and then gives me advice on my own damn folder organisation, and instead gain a _different_ librarian who is _also_ obsessed with DVORAK. Even if he does have a cat.”

“I know what DVORAK is,” Caleb said easily. He didn’t see Caduceus' smile but he felt he could imagine it, even in the short length of time that he’d known him for.

Beau squinted at him. “You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“You are. You’ve gotta be lying. DVORAK is too- it’s fucking-… _why_?”

Caleb shrugged. “A friend told me about it,” he said simply, opting not to specify _which_ friend. Beauregard didn’t need to know that. “I quite like languages and history, and though this is not history or language how many would think of it, it was still of interest to me, and so I remembered it.”

“… You’re fuckin’ weird, Widogast.”

“Which she _of course_ means in the best possible way!” Fjord interrupted quickly, grinning more than a little awkwardly. “We embrace weirdness here. Can’t get enough of it.”

Next to Caleb, Caduceus gave a small, quiet snort of muffled laughter. Fjord fixed him with a glare but the firbolg didn’t seem to pay it any heed, instead taking another sip from his glass as he continued to smile to himself, shaking his head a little.

“Anyway…” Fjord said slowly. “Speaking of embracing weirdness… Beau?”

Beau looked over at him, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What?”

“Not to completely derail you from your burnin’ desire to argue with Caduceus about a god-damn keyboard layout, but I believe you, uh, I believe you promised our new friend here a certain somethin’ for joining us tonight.”

Beau’s eyes widened. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh, yeah! Right! My fuckin’- my hosting duties!” Beau reached out, sliding one of the two glasses in front of her over to Caleb. “There you go, one free drink. I didn’t know what kind of stuff you liked so I just sort of guessed, but in my defence, the conditions of the free drink never specified that you would _like_ it.” Next to her, Nott jabbed her elbow into Beau’s side. Beau winced. “Although,” she continued immediately, not so much as glancing in Nott’s direction, “if you _do_ hate it, let me know and I’ll go get you another one, alright?” She turned to Nott, quickly muttering something under her breath. In the crowded noise of the bar Caleb had to strain to make out the words. “How was that? Was that good?”

“Smile more,” Nott hissed. “You look constipated.”

Beau turned back to Caleb, and as Caleb watched her face… contorted. He wasn’t sure he could exactly call it a _smile_. A grimace, perhaps, but not a smile. He was pretty sure that smiles weren’t meant to look quite so stretched.

“I really hope you enjoyed your first day working at the museum,” Beau said, in a tone that was somehow even less genuine than her voice.

For a moment, Caleb was silent, staring in amazement as Beau’s smile continued to hover right on the borderline of ‘terrifying’. “ _Gods_ ,” he said eventually. “You- you know how, when you are younger, your parents will tell you not to pull faces when it is windy, or else your face will get stuck?”

Beau frowned. “Yeah?”

_This is not the best idea, Caleb. Do not insult your coworkers on your very first day_. “You look like you ignored that warning. With horrific consequences.”

There was a single moment of crackling, awful silence. And then, like shattered sunlight breaking through the clouds, Nott burst into loud, raucous, delighted laughter.

“Yes!” she cackled. “Yes, yes, that’s _exactly_ it! Fjord, I like this one, can we keep him?”

“Well we’re hopefully keeping him for the foreseeable future,” Fjord replied, glancing briefly at Caleb. “Which is good, because I know how god-damn hopeless y’all are with keepin’ shit organised. Even you, Beau.”

“Hey! I was- I was fuckin’ _assistant librarian_ for a while, I’ll have you know.”

“You _were_ assistant librarian until Dairon banned you from the archives.”

“That was through no fault of my own and I stand by that.”

“It was _entirely_ through a fault of your own,” Nott interjected and Beau, without looking at her, jabbed her in the side with an elbow. “ _Ouch_.”

“Not my fault,” Beau repeats. “Definitely not my fault. Just like how that sign on the break room door about birds in the freezer _also_ wasn’t my fault. That was one of my interns, and you all know it.”

Caleb leant back in his seat, lifting the glass that Beau had passed him to his lips and taking a sip as Beau and Nott continued to bicker. It was strangely reassuring to watch them talk, in an odd sort of way – it was clear even to an outside observer such as himself that there was never any true anger or bitterness behind any of the traded insults, and even when Beau threatened to steal Nott’s button collection if she kept making her look bad in front of ‘the new guy’ (a threat so extreme that everyone else at the table, Caduceus included, gasped quietly when Beau said it), there was still a hint of amusement in Nott’s eyes. Whoever these people were, whatever weirdness they may individually have, they still seemed trustworthy. They seemed nice.

Caleb relaxed even further, feeling Frumpkin’s tail flicking gently against his shoulder, and, almost absently, gently nudged Caduceus' side. “Caduceus?”

From the corner of his eye, Caleb saw the firbolg’s ears twitch. “Hm?”

“These lot certainly are a strange bunch.”

“They are,” Caduceus agreed immediately. “They’re all good people, though. I can assure you of that.” Caduceus looked down, catching Caleb’s eye and smiling in his curious, indescribably knowing way. “I’m glad you joined us for drinks tonight, Caleb.”

Caleb gave a small shrug, looking away. He wasn’t- for some reason, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that statement. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about Caduceus in general. Not yet. “ _Ja_ , well… Beauregard can apparently be very convincing.”

“She has her occasional charms, I’ll admit. Would I be right to assume that Beau convinced you to join us with that drink that you’re holding?”

“ _Ja_ , in part,” Caleb replied, tilting his glass towards him. “She told me that my first drink would be free, and I felt that I should try to get to know you all, so… here I am.”

“That’s a very classic Beau method of conviction, you know.”

“Promises of alcohol?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Caduceus continued. “It worked wonders with Nott. She was a bit… skittish, when she first joined us. A bit odd.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. Caduceus seemed to catch the expression – he caught Caleb’s eye and grinned, his eyes crinkling.

“Alright,” he added. “Odder than the rest of us. We’re all a bit weird in our own ways, I suppose.”

“Mm,” Caleb hummed. “In my experience, museums tend to collect weird people.” _To say the least_.

“Hah, yeah.” Caduceus laughed, a short rumble of sound that Caleb felt more than he heard. “Nothing wrong with being weird, though. We’re all a bit odd. That’s just nature. There’s always going to be oddities. And, sometimes, the oddities are the nicest things because of their nature. Like in stamp collecting, you know? Things that are a bit unusual and odd are more treasured.” Caduceus smiled wider, raising his glass to take a drink, and then lowered it back down with a quiet _clink_ of glass on wood.

Caleb opened his mouth. For a moment he was silent, unsure of what to say, and then, unbidden by his brain, he heard his mouth say, “Are you an odd one too, Mr Clay?”

Caduceus' response was immediate; he laughed again, the same short chuckle that Caleb had felt before. His ears flicked as he did so, swishing back and forth as if signalling his delight through semaphore. “Oh,” he said, pausing to chuckle again. “Oh, yes, absolutely. I wouldn’t be anything else. I’ve often said that the best thing to be is yourself. After all, you can’t be anyone else, not without a _lot_ of effort, so you might as well make the best of it. And if you happen to be an odd one, well… might as well be the best and oddest that you can be.”

“ _Ja_?”

“Yeah, of course. I can’t be you, and you can’t be me, but I can be me very well, and if I know what I’m good at, and what I’m weird at, then I can embrace those and make my whole self better. I know that I’m an odd one – I believe that more or less everyone at this table can attest to that – and I can’t exactly stop myself from being odd without stopping myself from being me.” He raised his glass to his lips, taking a small drink of the juice contained within. “That kind of applies to all of us, really,” he added, his words quiet and yet still carrying clearly over the short distance between them. “We’ve all got our own oddities, and our edges, and the bits that we know that no-one else does. That’s what makes us people.”

For a moment, Caleb could do nothing but stare. Caduceus placed his glass back down carefully on the polished table top, absently tracing his fingers over the smooth, shining surface as if everything that he’d said was entirely normal, and entirely standard, and hadn’t just gently, carefully, readjusted a small amount of how Caleb looked at himself. He’d known this firbolg, this individual, for less than a day and yet here Caduceus was, all the same, quietly and calmly shifting Caleb’s worldview one tiny step at a time. Here he was, admitting to his own weirdness, to his own oddness, and never once coming across as anything less than entirely sure and entirely certain in himself.

Caleb glanced down, raising one hand to his shoulder and gently running his fingers through Frumpkin’s fur. Frumpkin gave a soft purr, more felt than heard, and Caleb scratched at him gently, the action of petting his cat stopping him from plucking at the cuffs of his sweater or scratching thoughtlessly at his own arms. Frumpkin’s fur was soft beneath his fingertips, warm and familiar and as comforting as ever.

Almost absently, Caleb wondered what Caduceus' gentle, barely-there fur would feel like beneath his hands.

“You are a strange one, Caduceus Clay,” he murmured quietly. He wasn’t entirely sure if he meant for Caduceus to hear the words, but it was immediately clear that he did – his lips quirked in a smile, his ears _swish-swish_ ing in unvoiced happiness.

“Well, thank you,” Caduceus replied. His voice was soft, as soft as it had been all day, but, just for a moment, it sounded… different. It was a tiny change, barely noticeable, but it was definitely there. “You seem like a strange one too, Caleb Widogast.”

From his lips, the words could only sound like a compliment.

Caleb looked away, attempting to hide the sudden, soft smile that had bloomed on his face. He didn’t know why those words felt so important. He _knew_ he was an odd one, after all – he always had been, for reasons beyond the cat on his shoulders, or the way his hands tended to shake when he got nervous, or his impeccable memory – but the way that Caduceus said it, his words half-muffled by the ceaseless background noise, didn’t sound like a simple statement of fact.

It sounded like understanding.

Caleb wondered how much Caduceus really understood. He wondered how much he had seen in him.

He wondered _what_ he had seen in him.

“Hey, Caleb!” Beau called suddenly from across the table, the unexpected sound of her voice making Caleb flinch in his seat. “You were at the museum in Rexxentrum, right?”

“I- I- _ja_ ,” Caleb replied. “I was- _ja_ , I was the librarian there for a while.”

“Did you ever bump into a tiefling?”

“I have encountered several tief-”

“But, like, a _really_ colourful one,” Jester interjected. “Just, _so_ colourful. The _most_ colourful. Even more colourful than me. A _purple_ tiefling.”

“He only would’ve turned up, like, three weeks ago,” Beau added. “Maybe. I don’t know. He’s been jitterbugging from place to place this last month or so. I just remembered you saying that you used to work at Rexxentrum, and I’m pretty certain that Molly was headed to Rexxentrum at some point for his _thing_ , so, y’know… figured I’d ask if you’d seen him. Check if he’d got himself into any trouble.”

Caleb frowned, furrowing his brow. “I… I _may_ have seen him,” he said eventually. “Possibly. I did not really, ah… I did not really interact with others outside of my- I did not really interact with others. I do not think I ever spoke to him.”

“Aww,” Jester said, at the same time that Beau said, “Good.”

Jester gasped. “ _Beau_ ,” she said, sounding scandalised. “Molly is a _delight_.”

“He’s a dick,” Beau replied, but there was definite fondness to her tone. “Also, Jessie, c’mon – Molly’s nice and all but he can be, like, a _lot_ to deal with. You remember the spice incident, right?”

“I think we _all_ remember the spice incident,” said Yasha. Her voice, now that Caleb was actually paying attention to it, was much softer than he’d expected from someone with her appearance and style. She very much had a look that gave the impression that there was a motorcycle within ten feet of her at all times. In comparison to that, her voice was almost surprisingly gentle. Maybe she, like everyone else he had met at the museum so far, wasn’t quite as scary as he thought.

Caleb put his glass down, leaning forwards slightly to be better heard as he spoke over the table. “What was the spice incident?” he asked, already curious.

Fjord shook his head. “You don’t want to know, trust me. It was- it was a _time_.”

“It was a hell of a time,” Beau added. “Just- it was a whole _thing_ , you know? Molly’s always getting up to weird shit.”

“Yeah!” said Jester. “Like the bath incident, or the tapestry incident, or the _egg_ incident-”

“We are _not_ talking about the egg incident, Jessie.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Beau said, “we are in _polite company_ , everyone except Cad and Caleb excluded.”

Jester’s face fell. “Aw,” she said. “Can I at least talk about the hospital incident?”

“That was _the same incident,_ Jester!”

“The-the _hospital_ incident?” Caleb interrupted.

Jester nodded. “Yep!” she said. “It was really, really cool. Like, _super_ cool.”

“It was dumb,” Beau interrupted, but she was smiling a little, despite her earlier objections to sharing the story. “It was the dumbest fuckin’ thing he’d ever done, as he’s done a _lot_. I’m not gonna tell you about it because it was, frankly, incredibly fuckin’ gross, but if you ever meet Molly when he gets back from his _tour de museum_ , or whatever, then you’ll almost certainly be able to get him to tell you all about it. If, y’know, if you’re into that, or whatever. It was super gross, though.”

“And it… and it involved _eggs_?” Caleb questioned cautiously.

“Yup.”

“ _Several_ eggs,” Jester added. “And then, later, after the egg incident, he was all ‘ooh, I am your god, eat of my fruits!’ and-”

“No, he wasn’t, he said that at the _pillow trove_ incident,” Yasha corrected quietly.

“Oh yeah! The same one where he exiled Fjord from his room!”

Beau snorted. “ _Pfft_ , fuck, yeah, I forgot about that!” she said, her voice raising in delight that only seemed to increase when she noticed the glare that Fjord was sending her way. “That was when he- fuck, that was, like, just before the tapestry incident, right?”

“Mhmm! Fjord got his own back in the pirate incident, though. You need to remember that.”

Caleb settled back again, content to drink and listen as Beau and Jester fell further into their strange, rambling conversation of the many incidents that this ‘Mollymauk’ had apparently taken part in, occasionally interrupted by Nott, or Fjord, or Yasha. Caduceus was the only person who didn’t speak up at some point – he, like Caleb, seemed content to sit and observe, settling into stillness and silence at the very edge of the circle. His leg pressed against Caleb’s under the table, his hair occasionally tickling Frumpkin’s nose and making the little cat sneeze, but there was nothing confining about his presence. Caleb knew what he was like – he knew how easily he could feel overwhelmed, knew how easily he could feel drowned and suffocated by the presence of another person close by, with the touch of another body against his own when he couldn’t easily escape it or when it wasn’t expected, but, somehow, with Caduceus, that feeling simply wasn’t there. He felt a little anxious, yes, because this was a new environment that Frumpkin had not checked over for him, and because these were new people, but he had open space to his left and Frumpkin heavy over his shoulders and Caduceus' indescribable, inexplicably calming presence to his right. He felt calm.

He felt calm, and content, and not half as nervous as he thought he would, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why, after barely eight hours of knowing these people, his body had decided to trust them, to let himself breathe in their presence without feeling like he had to bolt. It was nice, though. It was definitely nice. It had been a long, long time since he had last felt so calm in such a loud, busy environment.

He could get used to this.

“’Scuse me, Mr Caleb?”

Caleb glanced up, turning slightly to look at Caduceus. Caduceus was smiling down at him, but where earlier his smiles had been easy, casual and relaxed, this one looked almost… uncertain. It was a change that Caleb hadn’t expected to see, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he couldn’t help but wonder how to _stop_ Caduceus from looking so quietly uncomfortable. It was a strange expression to see on him. Caleb didn’t like it.

He frowned, unsure of what Caduceus could possibly be about to say that would make him look so uncertain. “… _Ja_?”

“I was just wondering… about your cat…”

Caleb frowned a little more, feeling his heart starting to pick up as every trace of calm that had been in his veins before abruptly fled. _No_. No, no, not yet. It was much, much too early to explain to anyone exactly what role Frumpkin played in his life. He was fine with having Frumpkin, of course – gods knew that he wouldn’t function nearly so well without the little cat in his life – but having to answer to people, have to explain exactly _why_ he needed Frumpkin, exactly what Frumpkin did to stop him from panicking… that was far, far too uncomfortable to have this early on, even with Caduceus. Even back in Rexxentrum, the only people who entirely knew about Frumpkin’s role in his life were his therapist, and Wulf and A- Caleb cut that thought short. _A new place_ , he reminded himself. _A new start_. There was no need to think about- to think about them. Not now.

There was no need to think about them, and there was no need to answer the question if Caduceus _did_ ask it. After all, he hadn’t actually asked anything yet, and Caduceus didn’t strike Caleb as the kind of person who would mind him saying that he’d rather not answer something. He seemed _nice_ , in a vague and directionless sort of way, like he was unsure of who he was supposed to be nice to and decided to solve the problem by being nice to everyone. He was nice, and he was calm, and this was fine.

_This was fine_.

Caleb took a breath, meeting Caduceus' eyes again, and was almost surprised to see that, at some point during his internal panic, the firbolg’s face had morphed into a soft, concerned frown.

“…Are you feeling alright?” Caduceus asked quietly, his voice a gentle rumble. Caleb could feel it where their knees were pressed together beneath the table, running along his bones as if trying to sooth him from the inside out. He swallowed, forcing himself to nod.

“I- _ja_ , _ja_ , I am fine,” he muttered. “I am- _ja_ , I am fine. What did you want to ask?”

Caduceus frowned for a moment longer, looking distinctly unconvinced, but then the expression cleared from his face. “I was just wondering,” Caduceus repeated, nodding towards Frumpkin, “your cat, Frumpkin… what breed is he?”

…Oh.

Immediately, Caleb felt himself relax. The question hadn’t at all been what he was expecting, but at the same time… at the same time, what _had_ he been expecting, honestly? These people weren’t his old co-workers. This wasn’t his old museum. Fjord had been understanding from the start, and he’d outright told Caleb that he’d emailed everyone to inform them of the situation with Frumpkin, and Caduceus hadn’t so much as batted an eyelid when Caleb had first walked into his office. He’d only ever looked at Caleb, his gaze somehow simultaneously soft and yet uncomfortably _knowing_.

Caleb coughed, abruptly aware that he’d been staring at Caduceus. He felt his cheeks darken with a flush, and could only hope that the dim lighting of the bar would help to hide it. “He, ah,” he stammered, his brain still trying to change gears from what he had thought he was going to hear to what he actually heard. “He is- he is a Bengal. They are- they are a hypoallergenic breed, somewhat.”

“Ah,” Caduceus said knowingly. “Yeah, I thought he was, just wanted to check. He’s got the right skull shape and fur patterning for it. I didn’t know they were hypoallergenic, though. That’s neat.”

“Oh, _ja_ , they don’t- they do not need to groom themselves as much as some other breeds and so there is less saliva in their fur,” Caleb explained, his mind still mostly elsewhere. “They are not as hypoallergenic as some breeds, but they are slightly easier for people with allergies.”

“That explains why Fjord isn’t coughing and sneezing everywhere.”

Caleb actually surprised himself by laughing a little. He snorted quietly, lifting his drink to hide it. “ _Hah, ja_ , he told me that he had allergies. I do not suppose I will be seeing him at my office very often.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t be seeing him too often, anyway.”

“ _Nein_?”

“Nah, he’s too busy dealing with Beau and her interns, or talking to Mr Mercer and helping plan everything for the museum. We see him down at the prep lab occasionally, but he rarely stays long.”

Caleb frowned. “The… prep lab?” He knew what one was, of course – he’d worked in museums for long enough to understand that a space was always needed for the preparation of animal specimens – but he was confused as to why _Caduceus_ would need to be there. To the best of his knowledge, most mushroom and fungus samples were dried, pressed, and then stored. There was very little need for scalpels, preparation tables, and copious amounts of sawdust when it came to mushrooms. “Forgive me, Dr Clay, but I thought you worked in mycology.”

“Caduceus, please. And I do, yeah, but I also like to help out with animal preparing. It’s a way of sort of- sort of-… paying my respects, you know? Thanking these creatures for their contributions to science, whether they know about it or not.”

Caleb nodded slowly, still frowning to himself. “Do you help out at the prep lab a lot?”

“When I get the time. I’m very fond of my own field, of course, but it can be nice to dabble in other areas from time to time. You learn a lot of interesting things when preparing animals, you know. And it’s- it’s an interesting thing to do with your hands. Takes a certain amount of skill and care to look after these things in death. But, then again, I suppose I lucked out a bit in that area. Having previous experience with death apparently gave me some sort of advantage.”

“Oh?” Caleb asked. “How?” What could possibly prepare someone for animal dissection apart from years of studying biology, after all?

Caduceus shrugged. For a moment the light caught on his hair and sweater, catching in gold along the edges and softening his outline into something impossibly gentler. “My family runs a funeral home,” he said simply. “We don’t go desecrating corpses, of course, because that would be tremendously impolite, but the whole- the process of, you know, sort of being gentle and respectful while at the same time understanding that this is a natural process, sad as it may be, helped a lot.” He paused and then, in a quieter, more distant voice, added, “Clarabelle helped too. She- yeah. She helped.”

“Clarabelle?”

“My sister.”

“Ah. Does she- does she do things like this?”

Once again Caduceus shrugged. Just for a moment, Caleb thought he saw Caduceus' fingers tighten around his glass. “She did. Not anymore, though.”

“No?”

“Nah, she moved on. She’s been a great help, though. A really great help.”

There was something in Caduceus' eyes as he spoke, Caleb realised. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, not beyond the fondness that was so evident in his tone and his voice, but it was… familiar, somehow. It was something that he recognised.

He just didn’t quite know what it was.

Caduceus, though, seemed content to leave the conversation there. He didn’t say any more as he watched the rest of the group, smiling to himself whenever Beau or Nott or Jester said something particularly amusing, and after a while Caleb felt himself start to relax further, what lingering tension still remained in his body slowly melting away. Around him the conversation flowed like water, jumping from topic to topic as easily as breathing. There were jokes that he didn’t understand, references that he didn’t get, but he never felt excluded by the group, silent and unspeaking as he was. They still made an effort to include him, explaining in-jokes and regaling him with old stories from the museum and doing their best to catch each other when they started forgetting how little he knew. They weren’t perfect – far from it, in fact – but they were clearly trying, and he appreciated that.

He appreciated a lot of the things they were doing.

Unknown to them, they’d provided him with a seat that was about as close to ideal as he could have hoped for. He had open space to one side, ready and waiting should his anxiety decide to take a sharp leap upwards and demand that he leave, and he had Caduceus to the other, warm and solid against his side. He could feel Caduceus' side rubbing against his shoulder, could feel the soft rumbling of his laughter echoing through his bones, and it was… nice. It was comfortable, for all that he couldn’t help but feel a little bit on-edge in this new, unknown space. It was pleasant. It wasn’t home, not yet, but, in time, it could be.

He caught the flicker of movement at his side as Caduceus glanced down at him, the corner of his mouth curving in a smile at something that Jester had said. In the soft, amber lighting of the bar his fur looked closer to gold than silver, gilded to a gentle rose gold where it thickened and turned pink at the tips of his ears and along the scruff of his jaw. His eyes were less intense in this strange, manufactured half-darkness, the stark pale pink washed out to all the colours of dusk. It was pretty, Caleb thought absently. His eyes were pretty.

Caleb met his gaze and, unthinkingly, smiled back.

Yes, he thought, as Caduceus returned to watching the others talk. This place could definitely become home.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely art in this chapter was done by [Alarnia](https://twitter.com/alarnia) and [Limey!](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **June 24th!**


	3. Chapter 3

The days passed in a blur of autumn sunlight and drizzling rain, and, before Caleb knew it, he’d been working at the museum for almost two weeks.

It wasn’t a long stretch of time by any standard, and it definitely wasn’t a long stretch of time when it came to a full-time, permanent job, but all the same, it somehow felt… significant. There wasn’t any particular anniversary that he was celebrating, wasn’t anything particularly important about the date, but, all the same, the realisation of how long he’d been working at the museum for still managed to catch Caleb off-guard. _Two weeks_. Two weeks of deciphering Dairon’s filing system, and getting to grips with the library layout, and spending one memorable lunchtime walking every single corridor of the museum to commit them to memory as Nott chattered away at his side.

Two weeks, and yet already the museum was starting to feel like home.

That had been an odd realisation to have at the time. The museum at Rexxentrum, for all that Caleb had worked there for a good portion of his life, had never quite felt like _home_. It had been comfortable, yes, and familiar, and he’d known every inch of it inside and out, had known all the secret passageways and the convoluted routes and all the best, most silent, most undisturbed places to sit and hide in when everything simply became _too much_ , but it had never been home. Even with Astrid- even with his friends, it had never been home. It had just been work. It had been comfortable, familiar, understandable work. It hadn’t been like here. It hadn’t been like here, with Beau yelling vaguely down the hallway and Nott responding back in kind. It hadn’t been like here, with Yasha quietly introducing Caleb to every single secret, tucked-away door that led from the public face of the museum to the private half. It hadn’t been like here, where Caduceus had dropped by Caleb’s office on Thursday bearing a box of cookies that he’d baked and then apologised for forgetting to bring them in as a welcoming present on Monday. The cookies had been very, very good, and when Caleb had mentioned this to Caduceus while returning to box to him the following week, Caduceus had only replied with a smile, and with a promise to bake more.

It also hadn’t taken very long for Frumpkin to get properly settled in. By the end of Caleb’s third day at the museum, Frumpkin had been gifted his own little space on top of one of the filing cabinets behind Caleb’s desk, with a litter tray tucked into one corner of the room and a food and water dish beside the desk. Caleb had brought in a small cat bed for him, not wanting his service animal to be at all uncomfortable while his human worked through the day, and the filing cabinet seemed like a sensible place to put it. It was out of the way, at a height where Caleb could easily call Frumpkin to climb back onto his shoulders, and, most importantly, it lay almost directly in a beam of sunlight for several hours of the day. Frumpkin may be his service animal but he was still a cat, and like all cats he was inordinately fond of napping in ridiculous poses while bathing in sunlight. Jester, Caleb knew, already had countless pictures of Frumpkin on her phone.

Caleb didn’t mind his service animal napping as he worked, either. After all, Frumpkin had already done his primary job in this room. Every morning, when Caleb arrived at his office and carefully placed Frumpkin down on the ground, the cat would go about his regular check, sniffing along every wall and checking every possible corner for signs of danger and signalling to Caleb once he was done. He was still technically working for the rest of the day, but it became a passive job rather than an active one. After all, he knew what he needed to pay attention to, and, by this point in his ownership of him, Caleb trusted him to work when he needed to.

He trusted him more than he trusted himself, but that was exactly why he had a service animal.

Nott, surprisingly, hadn’t taken very long to get accustomed to Frumpkin. She’d seemed to bond with the cat almost immediately, and had then bonded further with Caleb shortly thereafter, practically adopting him as her own and taking it upon herself to act almost as a parent to him, educating him on the ins and outs of life at the museum. It was a somewhat strange dynamic, but it worked, and very quickly Caleb had found himself considering Nott to be one of his closest friends in Zadash.

It hadn’t taken long for him to form an unlikely friendship with Beauregard, either. Despite her brashness, and her harshness, and her tendency to repeatedly put her foot in her mouth when speaking, Caleb found himself growing unexpectedly fond of her. Behind her rough and almost coarse exterior, she turned out to be surprisingly caring – she’d dropped by his office at the end of his second day to ask how he’d found things, and to check if he needed a hand deciphering Dairon’s filing system (“I worked with her for a couple of months, all right, I at least _kind of_ understand her DVORAK-ey bullshit.”), and by Friday she’d starting bringing in treats for Frumpkin, checking with Caleb that she was allowed to feed him and pet him, and then scratching him behind the ears when Caleb had given his permission. Caleb had already gained what Nott insisted was a nickname from her, and what he insisted was not a nickname, because, at least in his mind, your own, actual surname should not count as a nickname, but it was definitely… nice. It was a bit weird to hear a distant yell of ‘ _Widogast!_ ’ and then see a new email arrive in his inbox one second later, Beau apparently subscribing to the ‘yelling makes technology go faster’ school of thought, but it was still nice. It made him feel welcomed, like he was already part of the weird group that seemed to have formed in the break room. There was him, and Nott, and Jester, and Beau, and Caduceus, and occasionally Fjord or Yasha too, and it was just _nice_. It was nice to feel at home. It was nice to feel welcomed.

It was nice to feel like, in time, these people could actually, truly become his friends.

And some of them, it seemed, already considered themselves his friends.

“ _Cay-leb_ ,” came a sing-song voice from the doorway, at some point approaching lunchtime on his second Friday at the museum. Even without looking up, Caleb knew it was Jester – no one else that he’d encountered, at this museum or anywhere else, had a voice quite like hers. It somehow managed to sound almost like syrup, honey-sweet and golden, but without any of the… well, Caleb supposed he would have to call it the _ooze_ that actual syrup held. It just sounded nice, even when Jester was standing behind her voice grinning like a fox with a particularly dastardly plan.

She wasn’t grinning like that right now, Caleb realised when he looked up from his monitor, taking off his reading glasses to look at her. She was just smiling, one hand on the door frame as she poked her head around it, her short blue hair bouncing cheerfully around her face. To all intents and purposes she looked entirely genuine in her offer, and Nott had kindly informed Caleb earlier that it should, in theory, take at least another two weeks before Jester considered him ‘settled-in’ enough to start messing with him. Which meant that this, whatever ‘this’ was, was probably safe.

Caleb hummed. “Mm? What do you want, Jester?”

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me?” Jester asked, giving a winning smile. There was a pause, and then she added, “Beau may have broken the coffee machine.”

“Did she punch it?” Caleb asked immediately. Even from his limited time at the museum, he’d already started to understand that Beau had a somewhat limited range of problem-solving methods. Or, more accurately, she had a considerable range of problem-solving methods, but her preferred methods were very… direct.

Jester didn’t even blink. “She may have punched it,” she replied. “But now I want coffee, and the instant-brew stuff is _gross_ , so I was wondering if you maybe, you know, wanted to go get coffee with me? Just, like, in a super cool way. Because Nott tells me that you drink a lot of it and she _also_ told me that you didn’t know about Gilmore’s, which is, like _super_ bad, because Gilmore’s is the _best_ , so I thought I’d drop by and ask, and see if you wanted to come with me!”

Caleb considered Jester’s offer, but only for a couple of seconds at most. After all, thanks to Beau’s help, he was already further along in his work than he thought he’d be, and it _was_ nearly lunchtime. He could take some time out to get coffee with Jester. “ _Ja_ ,” he said, tucking his glasses away in their case and pushing it to one side of the desk. “I would be amenable to that.”

Jester’s bright, delighted grin could have replaced the sun.

“Great!” she said. “Well, get your coat on, because it’s pretty cold out there. Will Frumpkin be coming with us?”

“Frumpkin goes everywhere I go.”

“Aww, that’s so cute!”

Caleb frowned a little, momentarily glad that he was facing away from Jester to clip Frumpkin’s leash onto his harness. He supposed it _could_ be considered cute, when looked at from a certain angle, but mostly it was just _necessary_. He was perfectly capable of functioning without Frumpkin by his side, but it was just that: functioning. It wasn’t comfortable, and it wasn’t pleasant, and the longer it went on the more uncomfortable he would feel until eventually he would be forced to leave by his own anxiety. Frumpkin was definitely cute – as an avid cat lover, Caleb certainly couldn’t disagree with that point – but he was also important. He played a significant role in Caleb’s life, even if Jester, through Caleb’s own omission, didn’t exactly know that.

But that was a discussion for another time. Caleb straightened up, leash in hand, and quickly shrugged into his coat before helping Frumpkin resume his usual position around his shoulders. He would put Frumpkin down on the ground to walk later, but while they still had the museum to traverse, he figured it was best to have him out of the way.

“By the way,” Jester said, holding the door open for him and then starting to lead the way down the corridor, her tail swishing behind her beneath the layers of her coat and skirts, “where’s Nott? I didn’t see her in your office.”

Caleb shrugged. “She said she had to go and meet someone. Someone called Keg, I believe?”

“Ohhh. Yeah, that would make sense. Keg sometimes finds, like, really weird and cool specimens that she then tells us about, but she’s also Nott’s drinking buddy.”

“…It’s midday.”

“I didn’t say they were drinking now!” Jester sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. “They’re probably just, you know, planning their weekend. Or something like that.”

“Ah. Alright.” Caleb nodded, content to lapse into silence as he buzzed them through the door into the public side of the museum. It was significantly busier than it had been that first day he arrived, but despite the volume of the voices of a hundred people echoing off the old, carved stonework, there was a comfort of sorts to be found in the scattered crowd. Jester moved around people effortlessly, confident and certain in her actions, and it was surprisingly easy for Caleb to follow after her, even if Frumpkin did draw a couple of odd looks. He waited until they were outside the museum to lower Frumpkin from his shoulders, wrapping the cat’s leash around his hand as Frumpkin started to walk alongside him. Around them the city was resplendent in the firelight shades of autumn, the trees still just about clad in their outfits of amber and gold. It was really rather pretty, Caleb thought.

Pretty, but damned cold. He was sure that Rexxentrum hadn’t been quite this nippy.

“ _So_ ,” said Jester, as they stepped out into the chilly air, “how are you settling in? Have you figured out Dairon’s weird filing system yet?”

“I am- I am working on it,” Caleb replied. “It is very, um, unique, to say the least.”

“Has Beau been ‘round to help you? Because she told me that she was going to, you know, but sometimes she can be a _teensy_ bit forgetful, but I don’t want you settling in to be any trickier than it has to be so if she hasn’t then let me know, alright? Just because, like, she worked with Dairon for a bit so she might know something useful, which could then be something useful for you, which would make you, like, super useful! Not that you aren’t useful already, though, because you _totally_ are.”

Caleb paused, just for a moment. Even now, he was still getting accustomed to Jester’s rapid-fire, speed-of-light manner of speech. It was certainly endearing, and almost adorable in a strange sort of way, but it also took him just a few moments to process. “… _Ja_ ,” he said, a second or so later. “She- _ja_ , she came by earlier in the week, actually.”

“Did she help? Or did she just threaten to punch things? Because she does do that a lot.”

“ _Ja_ , I know. But no, she was actually very useful. I would not be this far along with reorganising the system if she had not helped me.”

Jester gave him a look. “You’re reorganising the whole system?”

“Well… sort of? In part, at least. If nothing else, partially reorganising it will help me to understand the current system better, which means that I will then be better able to help you all locate any books or references that you need.” He shrugged. “It is just sensible.”

There was a long, long pause.

And then, out of nowhere, Jester laughed. “You’re weird,” she said, but her voice was fond. “Anyway, hurry up a bit, will you? I want my coffee!”

The coffee shop, it turned out, wasn’t too far away. Within five minutes of walking they’d reached it – a large, ornate, purple sign above the door proclaimed it to be ‘Gilmore’s Glorious Grounds’. The little bell above the door tinkled merrily as Caleb pushed the door open, the shop greeting him with a rush of warm air and the reassuring scent of coffee as he stood to one side to let Jester in first. She giggled a little as she passed him, blowing him a fleeting kiss with a cheeky smile.

“ _Thank_ you, Caleb,” she said. “That’s very polite of you.”

Caleb shrugged, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. “ _Ja_ , well, my parents always taught me to be polite.”

“They clearly raised you very well!”

“They- they did.” He knew that. Even now, so many of his parents habits and teachings were still baked into him, reminding him to be polite and kind and as good as he could be, even when his own perception of himself was less than pleasant. Even now, he still had his mother’s voice in his head, and his father’s kind words, and the memories of everything they had taught him.

Even now, even here, his parents still impacted his life in small, unnoticeable ways.

Jester, of course, didn’t know any of this. She didn’t seem to catch the slight stutter in Caleb’s voice, instead giving a happy little hum as she dragged him up to the counter by their joined arms. She didn’t appear to glance at the menu at all as the barista – a tall, fiery-haired half-elf woman of indeterminate age – approached, instead immediately reeling off an order than seemed to contain more sugar than Caleb felt was contained within the entire museum. He could only assume that the barista was familiar with Jester – she didn’t bat an eyelid, instead just smiling slightly as she scribbled the order down, asking Jester a few quiet questions that Caleb couldn’t quite make out. Jester responded, as smiling and bubbly as ever, and then turned to Caleb, gesturing him forward.

“Come on!” she said. “Caleb, what do you want? I’ll pay!”

“You- Jester, I can pay for my own drink,” Caleb protested, quickly scanning the menu as he stepped up. Jester rolled her eyes, leaning close to the counter.

“ _Keyleth_ ,” she hissed in a stage whisper, “I’m paying for both of our drinks, okay? Don’t let Caleb pay!”

The half-elf laughed softly. “I’ll do that,” she replied, in a whisper that was just as audible as Jester’s had been. Jester turned to look at Caleb, giving him an almost smug smile, and Caleb sighed. He could see that he wasn’t going to win this argument.

“Fine,” he grumbled, but he could feel himself smiling. “I- alright. I will just have a large flat white, please.”

“Do you want a different milk with that?” The barista – _Keyleth_ , Caleb remembered – paused, glanced over him quickly, and then added, “or an extra shot of espresso?”

“… I will have an extra shot of espresso, _bitte_.” It didn’t take much thinking to come to that decision. Caleb had been sleeping… well, not _terribly_ , but certainly not fantastically since he’d moved to Zadash. He wasn’t particularly tired, and he was definitely sleeping enough, but he was still getting accustomed to the sounds and echoes and creaks of his new home.

Even though he’d checked the fittings before he’d moved in, and knew that this home had nothing that he should be concerned about, he couldn’t help but be on the listen-out for that one, particular sound. Even though he had Frumpkin there to specifically soothe his anxieties, he still couldn’t help but be a little bit tense in this new space. And, evidently, that tenseness was making itself known.

Keyleth nodded, the corner of her mouth quirking in a smile as she scribbled down Caleb’s order. “Alright. Anything else? Anything to eat?”

“That was it, _danke_.”

“Fantastic.”

Jester stepped forward to pay before Caleb got the chance to, shooting him a quick grin and leaving him to move to one side of the counter to wait for their drinks. Despite it being almost lunchtime they didn’t have to wait very long, and within a couple of minutes Keyleth was leaning across the counter to pass them their drinks; even with the lid on, Caleb was pretty certain that he could smell the sugar that Jester’s drink seemed to be primarily made of. Caleb thanked Keyleth, checked that he wasn’t about to step on Frumpkin, and then he turned, drink in hand, and immediately, without a single moment to stop himself, walked directly into something.

Wait, no.

Some _one_.

Someone tall, and skinny, who seemed to be dressed in a soft sweater that smelled of rainy forests and peat, and someone who Caleb had very nearly just spilled coffee all over.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” Caleb muttered, immediately stepping back. By some miracle he hadn’t dropped his drink or even spilled it, and he quickly held it up to his chest, keeping it as safely out of the way as possible. “I- _Scheiße_ , I am sorry about that, I did not mean to- to bump into you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” replied a  familiar deep voice, and it was then that _tall_ and _soft_ and _skinny_ clicked together, and resolved themselves into one single, simple word: _Caduceus_. Caleb glanced up, and then glanced up higher – gods, but he always managed to forget how tall Caduceus really was – soon meeting a pair of soft, pale pink eyes.

Caduceus smiled.

  
  


“You alright?” he asked. His voice was the same deep rumble as always, inexplicably comforting and indescribably pleasant. “That was my bad for not getting out of the way, really. I just spotted you and Jester and figured I’d come over and say hey.” He shifted a little, presumably catching sight of Jester over Caleb’s shoulder, and nodded, flashing her a lazy, casual grin. “Hey, Jester.”

“Hey, Caduceus!” Jester replied from behind Caleb.

Caduceus looked back to Caleb. “Are you alright, though? I’ve been told I can be pretty boney – I wouldn’t want anyone to bump into me. Fjord tells me that I have very sharp elbows.”

Caleb shook his head. “No, no, you were- you were fine,” he replied. “You were- you were not unpleasant to walk into.”

“No?”

“ _Nein_ , you were, um… surprisingly soft.” _Gods_ , what was he saying? Caleb tried not to pull a face at the words that had just come out of his mouth, quickly casting around for something to change the conversation to. Thankfully, there was an option immediately at hand; he nodded to the reusable cup that Caduceus was carrying, steam curling through the small hole in the lid. As far as Caleb could make out, the cup was decorated with a pattern of tiny, cartoon mushrooms. “Um, by the way, what did you- what did you get? I do not believe I have ever seen you drink coffee before.”

“Hmm?” Caduceus hummed. He frowned for a moment, apparently unsure of how to respond to Caleb’s question, and then looked down at the drinks he was carrying. “Oh! Oh, no, these are for Shakäste and Bryce. They’re just about to bring in a specimen, so I figured I’d pick up some coffee for them. Y’know, help them out, do my part, all that.” He smiled. It was the same smile that Caleb had come to realise Caduceus always seemed to wear, no matter the situation. It was soft, and gentle, and just a little bit absent, like Caduceus was only dedicating 80% of his attention to the conversation at hand while the other 20% went off and did… something. Caleb didn’t know what. He just knew that Caduceus always seemed simultaneously attentive and absent, like he was looking at you and through you at the same time. If Caleb was honest, it was a little bit unnerving.

If Caleb was honest, it was also a little bit nice. It felt like Caduceus saw every old, shadowed corner of him, and accepted them all immediately, not once questioning what he found or judging Caleb for the shadows that lingered even to that this day. Caleb knew, logically, that Caduceus didn’t know anything about his past – hell, none of them knew anything, save for the fact that he used to work in Rexxentrum – but he always looked, and acted, and generally _seemed_ to be knowing.

Caleb glanced away, breaking eye contact. Caduceus could be intense, even when he was doing nothing more than carrying two cups of coffee, the steam drifting through the tiny holes in the lids wreathing his face and catching gold in the autumn sunlight. He was intense always, in the oddest ways, but, right now, Caleb didn’t feel like handling ‘intense’. He cleared his throat, nodding towards the cups. “So you did not, ah, you are not getting anything for yourself?”

Caduceus’ smile widened. “Nah,” he replied. “I only-”

“He only drinks tea!” Jester interrupted. “But, like, _weird_ tea. No offence, Caduceus.”

“Please, none taken. It can be weird tea, for people who are used to their tea having caffeine.”

Ah. Caleb supposed that explained Caduceus’ permanently calm demeanour. He gave a little smile, glad that Caduceus now seemed to be looking at Jester more than he was looking at him. “You know, sadly I have never been able to find a tea that I like.”

From beside him, he heard Jester give a tiny, shocked gasp. “ _Caleb_!”

Caduceus merely raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you now?” he asked. “Huh. What kinds of tea have you tried, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Caleb shrugged. “Honestly, I am no longer sure, but my mother- growing up, a lot of people who I knew drank tea and seemed to enjoy it, but I could never get the taste for it. It was probably black tea, though. I am- I am not sure if I have had any others except for green tea, and that was… _ja_ , I was not so fond of that either.”

Caduceus gave a slow, understanding nod. “Yeah, they probably brewed it at too high a temperature. It’s a common mistake; it turns the tea all bitter. Which, you know, some people probably like, but it’s not the best for if you’re trying to find a tea that you like. With green tea in particular you’ve really got to wait between boiling the kettle and brewing the tea. Give the water time to cool a bit, make sure you don’t scald the leaves, all that kind of stuff. You need to treat things properly or they won’t turn out the best they can be. Which, you know, is clearly evident with tea, but it applies to other areas as well.” Once again, he gave Caleb that slow, knowing smile and, beneath his coat, Caleb felt himself shiver. “Tell you what, though” Caduceus added after a short, thoughtful pause. “You should drop by my office some time. I’ve got loads of tea, all different blends. I’m sure we’ll be able to find something that you like.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “ _Ja_?”

“Oh, absolutely. There’s a tea for everyone, you know. And I make most of mine, so I can tell you exactly what’s in it. We can figure out what you like, what you don’t like, and if you don’t like any of it at all, well… we still would’ve got to know each other better. And I can always mix up a special batch, just for you.”

Caleb blinked. “You’d- you would do that?”

Caduceus’ expression didn’t waver – he just kept smiling, as soft and as certain as ever. “Sure,” he said easily. "A unique blend for a unique person. It seems fitting."

Caleb swallowed, feeling his chest grow warm. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, not really. He was a smart man, and he knew it, and he could more or less tell when people were flirting with him, and he felt that in different circumstances that line could _definitely_ be perceived as flirtatious, but when Caduceus was the one saying it… well, when Caduceus was the one saying it, Caleb just couldn’t tell. There was no flicker of his face, no change to his expression, no particular _look_ in his eyes. For all Caleb knew, this could just be how he spoke to everyone. Hell, from what he’d seen and heard, it _was_ how Caduceus spoke to everyone. Caduceus seemed to be fond of giving brief, fleeting compliments that ranged from pleasant and polite to downright bizarre, but they’d never seemed insincere. They’d never seemed forced.

They’d never seemed flirtatious.

For a moment, Caleb forced himself to meet Caduceus’ gaze. Caduceus looked back at him, nothing on his face giving away any indication of anything at all. He was just smiling, was just watching Caleb, was just being _Caduceus_.

It was very nearly infuriating.

Caleb cleared his throat. _Tea_. They were talking about tea. “But would that- would that not be a lot of effort?” he asked. Even it was less effort than he thought it was, it would still be more effort than he was worth. He knew that much for certain. “Especially if it turns out that I do not like it. I would not want for you to dedicate that time to something only for me to- well, not enjoy it.”

Caduceus gave a short laugh. “Oh, no, no, not at all,” he replied. “It’ll be a little bit of hassle, sure, but it’ll be worth it. Important things take time you know.”

“And finding me a tea that I like, even if it has to be specifically blended, is an important task?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation in Caduceus’ reply. He said the word immediately, without pause or any indication of doubt, entirely certain and entirely sure in his answer, and just like that Caleb found his rebuttal catching in his throat. There was no space for argument in Caduceus’ response, none at all; whatever levity had been in his tone before had vanished when he said that one, single word, leaving nothing but dead seriousness in its wake. Caleb glanced up a little bit, hoping to find some sort of explanation, some indication of a joke in Caduceus’ eyes, but there was nothing there.

For some impossible, unfathomable reason, Caduceus seemed to genuinely believe that Caleb, of all people, was worth this task. For some reason, he seemed to consider this important.

_Oh_ , Caleb thought quietly, and then he pushed the strange, fuzzy feeling growing in his mind and chest away, and looked over to the far wall of the café. That, right now, was much easier to look at than Caduceus.

“Anyway,” Caduceus was saying, apparently unaware of Caleb’s quiet, internal moment of confusion, “I really need to be heading back now. It was really nice bumping into you two, though. Bye, Miss Jester.”

“Bye, Cad!”

“And goodbye to you too, Mr Caleb.” Caleb looked back at the firbolg, their eyes immediately meeting. Caduceus smiled and, for a moment, Caleb thought he saw in his eyes that same indefinable _thing_ that he’d seen in them that night at the bar. “Drop by my office some time, alright? I’ll make you tea.”

“I- I will do that,” Caleb replied.

“You promise?”

“ _Ja_. _Ja_ , I promise.”

“Good.” Caduceus smiled a little wider, just for a moment, and then he nodded to both of them politely, carefully turned with coffee cup in hand, and left the shop.

The moment the door swung shut behind Caduceus, making the little bell tinkle cheerfully, Jester turned to look at Caleb, her eyes wide, and gave a loud, shocked gasp. “ _Caleb_!”

Caleb frowned. “… _Ja_?”

“That was- he was- oh my _gods_!” Jester grinned widely, practically bouncing in place as Caleb continued to frown. He was getting the distinct impression that he was missing something obvious, a feeling that was only enhanced by Jester’s next few words. “I can’t _believe_ he just did that! Did you see that? You must have seen that! Oh my _gods, Caleb!_ ”

“What did I see?” Caleb asked, growing more confused by the second. “I didn’t see anything.”

“He was _flirting with you_.”

Caleb choked on air. “I- he was- _Jester_ -”

“He _was_ , you must have noticed! You were totally flirting back!”

“I was not- I was not _flirting_ with him, Jester,” Caleb protested, hastily leading the way out of the café as he felt his ears start to turn red. Of that, at least, he was very certain. He couldn’t speak for Caduceus, but he knew that any flirting from his own side, at least, was entirely unintentional. _Gods_ , he thought. _I hope he hasn’t got the wrong idea._ “I was just- I was simply being polite. That was all. I do not wish to make any enemies when I have only just started working here.”

“Mhmm,” Jester hummed, but her tone implied that she believed otherwise. “Well, anyway, even if you _weren’t_ flirting with Caduceus, he was totally flirting with you! You must have noticed it.”

“I- I did not wish to presume-”

“It was _flirting_ , Caleb,” Jester insisted. She tugged on Caleb’s arm, making him stumble a little, and grinned at him widely. “Caduceus _likes you_ ,” she whispered loudly, in the manner of one disclosing a teenaged secret. “Which, by the way, is very understandable. You are a very likable person.”

Caleb gave a short laugh. _If only_. “I am not so sure of that, Jester…”

“You _are_. I can see it, and Nott can see it, and Caduceus can definitely see it, _if you know what I mean_.”

“I- I do not-”

“He was _flirting_ ,” Jester repeated. “Do you really think he offers to make tea for everyone?”

“…Yes?” said Caleb after a pause, wondering vaguely if this was meant to be a trick question. “I mean, I have spent time in the break room with you all. Caduceus frequently offers to make tea and coffee for everyone.”

Jester hit his arm. For one so small, it was a surprisingly strong hit. Caleb wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise. “You know what I mean! I mean, like, the whole ‘ooh, Mr Caleb, why don’t you come by my office and I’ll make a special blend of tea _just for you_ , all super-special because you are such a special and unique person.’”

“He was just-”

“He called it an _important task_ , Caleb. That’s flirting! I would know. I’ve read a _lot_ of books about this, okay?”

“…Books?”

“Yeah! Like, you know, romance and smut and all stuff like that. Beau said they’re not very accurate but there’s got to be _something_ real in there, you know? And that was totally flirting!”

Caleb felt his face contort into something akin to a grimace. “Jester… I am not sure those books are the most reputable source of information.”

“I know, I know, Beau tells me that too, but you’re trying to get away from the point!”

He absolutely was. “No, I’m not.”

“You _are_ ,” Jester said, gently hitting his arm again. “Even you weren’t flirting with Caduceus – which I _still_ don’t actually believe, but because I am a good friend I am going to take you at your word – he was totally flirting back! He _likes_ you!”

“He likes everyone-”

“If you keep arguing with me then I won’t let you use the coffee machine when we get it fixed _and_ I’ll tell Keyleth and Gilmore not to serve you.”

Caleb didn’t even blink. “If you do that then I will not let you take any more photos of Frumpkin.”

Jester gasped. “ _Caleb_ ,” she said, her face instantly falling into an expression of dismay and betrayal. “I can’t- I can’t _believe_ you would do that! That is so mean!”

“So is prohibiting my coffee intake. It seems we are at a stalemate, _ja_?”

Jester frowned. “Fine,” she muttered, kicking at some of the fallen leaves that adorned the sidewalk. “I won’t ban you from the coffee machine. And I won’t ask you any more questions.”

“Thank you.”

“Until we get back to the museum.”

Caleb supposed it was as good a deal as he was going to get from Jester. If nothing else, at least it would allow him time to think over the flirt- to think over _whatever it was_ that had just happened. Because it wasn’t flirting. He was sure it wasn’t flirting. He hadn’t been flirting, and Caduceus hadn’t been flirting, and he wasn’t even interested- he wasn’t- Caduceus was not-

Caleb frowned to himself, falling silent as he, too, gently kicked at the leaves. They crinkled and crunched pleasantly beneath his feet, a quiet symphony of autumn sounds, but he couldn’t focus on the simple pleasure that the sound brought. Not when his head was still all full of… well, full of Caduceus. Full of Caduceus, and his soft, pink hair, and his soft, grey fur, and his soft, gentle voice, so quiet and calm that it somehow managed to sound like the sensation of a hug. Caleb wouldn’t deny that he liked Caduceus – he didn’t think it was possible to _not_ like Caduceus – but how deep that feeling went he honestly wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to look into it too deeply, if he were honest with himself. Not now.

To her credit, Jester stayed silent even beyond the entrance of the museum, weaving through the scattered crowds of visitors with Caleb close to her side. It was only when they got to one of the staff doors, Caleb reaching out to unlock and open it for them, that he saw Jester’s face break into an ominous, impish grin from the corner of his eye.

“ _So_ ,” Jester said, stretching the word out as the door to the private side of the museum clicked shut behind them. “You’ve been super quiet. Which, you know, is totally fine and all, I’m just a teensy-tiny, not at all serious, _itsy-bitsy_ bit curious what you were thinking about.” There was a pause, barely enough time for Caleb to open his mouth to reply, and Jester interrupted him before he could even begin talking. “Was it Caduceus? Were you thinking about Caduceus? Where you thinking about what I said about you and Caduceus? Do you _like him_?”

Caleb could practically feel the italics he knew Jester’s words would be written in. He ducked his head a little, feeling his ears flaring red beneath his hair, and hoped that he could pass off the flush in his cheeks as a result of the chill in the air. “I, ah, I am- I do not-”

“Because if you _do_ like him then you _have_ to let me know, okay? Because we’re friends now, which means that you have to tell me so that I can wingwoman for you. _Do_ you like him? Do you think he’s cute?”

Caleb opened his mouth to reply, feeling the denials lining up on his tongue, and then paused, turning Jester’s words over in his head for a moment. He fell silent for a moment as they continued to walk, frowning to himself as, between his hands, his cup of coffee pressed warmth against his skin. _Did_ he like Caduceus? Was he interested in Caduceus? Did he find Caduceus, well… attractive?

Even mentally, his answer to all three questions was immediate.

_Yes_.

But, at the same time, _no_.

There was no doubt in Caleb’s mind that Caduceus was attractive. He was slender to the point of being gaunt, fine-boned and almost delicate-looking, but he was handsome despite, or possibly because of, that. His hair looked soft, and more than once now Caleb had caught himself wondering what Caduceus’ ears would feel like beneath his fingers, and there was just something _strange_ , about him, something fey and ethereal and other that made him almost indescribably alluring. He wasn’t quite handsome, and he wasn’t quite beautiful, but he was certainly attractive in his own unique way. Caleb wouldn’t deny that. He respected beauty and elegance where he saw it, and he saw some aspects of it in Caduceus. To say otherwise, to state that Caduceus looked as plain as Caleb knew that he himself was, would be a blatant lie, and, at the suggestion of his therapist, Caleb was trying very hard not to lie to himself too much these days.

So, yes, Caduceus was attractive. He was attractive, and Caleb couldn’t see how someone could possibly be _dis_ interested in Caduceus, what with his general vibe of gentle, kindly weirdness. He was just… interesting, for whatever reasons. And Caleb did like Caduceus, he knew he did, but not like that. Caduceus was kind and sweet and more than a little bit unsettling at times, with his shifting speech and knowing looks and what Caleb could only call a _vibe_ of almost discomforting understanding, but he was also friendly, and nice, and an excellent baker. He was gentle, and quiet, and careful in his words and actions, always giving the impression that he’d thought over everything at least five times before doing or saying anything at all. Caleb appreciated that. He _liked_ quiet, and careful, and thoughtful. He liked peace, and knowing exactly what was happening and what was going to happen, and he like clarity and routine. Really, when he looked at in that way, Caduceus was more or less perfect for him.

He just wasn’t what Caleb was looking for. Not right now.

Right now, Caleb wasn’t looking for anything at all.

“No,” Caleb said eventually. “No, I am- I am not interested in Caduceus. Not like that.”

Jester pouted. “Aww,” she said. “You two would be so cute together, though! But, you know, I’m not judging you for not liking dudes, that’s totally cool, we’re _super_ accepting here, don’t worry about it at all-”

“N- _nein_ , Jester!” Caleb spluttered, finding himself shocked into unexpected laughter. Of course that was how Jester chose to interpret his statement. Of course. “I am not- I do like men, I assure you, and women. I am just- right now, I am not looking for anything. I have… I am trying to put down roots first, you know, before I try any… any…” He waved a hand vaguely. “You know. Dating.”

“Ohhh.” Jester nodded slowly, patting his arm in an almost absent-minded fashion. “That makes sense, I suppose. But when you _do_ want to start dating you let me know, alright? I know so many people and you’re, like, _super_ cute and smart and stuff, so I could _totally_ help set you up with people. You know. If you’re interested.”

“I am- _Ich_ \- I will keep that in mind.”

“Good!” Jester patted his arm again, drawing to a stop just outside Caleb’s office door. She took a step away from him, grinning impishly, and then, before Caleb could really react, darted in and squeezed him in a tight hug. “Anyway, I need to get back to my painting and stuff! But this was super fun! We should get coffee again some other time.”

Caleb found himself smiling. “This was fun,” he agreed. “And I would- if Beauregard breaks the coffee machine again, then I would be alright with that.”

“ _Unless_ , of course, you find that you suddenly like tea a lot more.”

“…Jester.”

“If you know what I mean.”

“I- _Jester_.”

“Because if you _do_ suddenly really like tea and end up spending a _lot_ of time in Caduceus’ office then I would be okay with that. I’d be super okay with that.”

Caleb groaned quietly, lifting a hand to partially cover his face. “ _Jester_.”

“I can see you smiling, Caleb.”

“I am not smiling,” Caleb insisted around his smile.

“You _are_.”

Caleb huffed a sigh. “You are a _menace_.”

“You love me, though.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, peeking up over his hand. “I am not sure I would go so far as that.”

“Mm, no, maybe not yet, but you will!” Jester replied, still grinning just as brightly as ever. “I’m _very_ lovable.”

“I am sure that you are.”

“I am.”

“…I am going to go back into my office, now.”

“Alright!” Jester stepped forwards, giving him another quick hug. “See you soon! Don’t forget what I said about tea!”

“I won’t,” Caleb replied, and with that he turned, still half-covering his face, and promptly escaped into the peace and silence of his office.

Only to find that Nott had, at some point during his absence, returned.

“So,” Nott said without looking up, the moment the office door shut behind him, “what did Jester interrogate you on? Because, no offense, but you’re the fresh meat, and Jester kind of has a tendency to ask prying questions.”

Caleb gave a short laugh, moving over to his own desk and unclipping Frumpkin from his lead before shucking off his coat. He wasn’t going to talk about Caduceus. Not now. “Well, she was mostly asking how I was settling in. If I understood Dairon’s filing system yet, all things like that.”

Nott glanced up, her brown eyes barely visible above the monitor of her computer. One eyebrow raised, creating a surprisingly dubious look considering that Caleb could only see half of her face. “And that was it? Nothing else?”

“Not really.”

“ _Pfft_. Come on, Caleb. I know what Jester is like. She _must_ have asked you some weirder stuff than that? What did you _really_ talk about?”

_Caduceus._ Caduceus, and the possibility of interest. Caduceus and flirting. Caduceus and Caleb, and how, despite his interest in the firbolg himself, Caleb wasn’t interested in that particular way. Not now. Potentially, not ever.

He shrugged, sitting down in his chair. It creaked quietly beneath him, the sound universal and familiar to him. “Oh,” he said, and quietly dismissed all thought of Caduceus from his mind. _I am not interested_. “Nothing much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on **July 1st!**  
>  The art in this chapter was done by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt/status/1143190654224388097) on twitter!


	4. Chapter 4

“…So then Molly came bursting into the office, demanding to know where the blood slides were kept, and if I had any _coyote_ blood slides – which, by the way, I absolutely do, because I try to take samples from every specimen that comes through – and I told him where to find them and that if he even so much as _cracked_ one I was going to leave one of Cad’s cactuses on his desk chair, and then about twenty seconds after he left _Beau_ showed up-”

“Mmhmm.”

“-and asked the same question, but she already knew that I had the coyote slides so she asked me what row and cabinet they were in-”

“I hope your collection makes more sense than Dairon’s.”

“I made sure never to let Dairon anywhere near my collection, Caleb. She can keep her DVORAK-ey hands to herself. But _anyway_ , I told Beau, and then Jester showed up, and then Fjord showed up, and after about twenty minutes even _Caduceus_ showed up, but he just asked me where the others were and seemed kind of confused. And he didn’t even let me know what was going on, the _bastard_.”

Caleb trailed a finger along the row of book spines he was checking, smiling to himself as Nott spoke. “No?”

“No! And it took me almost two days for any of them to tell me _why_ they were asking about the slides. Not even Yeza could figure it out, and he’s very smart, you know.”

Caleb smiled a little. He did know. If he knew one thing about Nott from his relatively short time knowing her, it was that she loved her husband and her son more than anything else in this world or any other. There was a small picture of them sitting on her desk, inside a frame that she herself had decorated with her favourite buttons. It was almost unspeakably sweet.

It reminded Caleb of the photo that his parents used to have of both of them and himself, all three of them smiling at the camera. It used to be on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. He wasn’t sure where it was anymore. He wasn’t sure if it had survived the blaze.

“Could he not?” he asked, dragging his thoughts away from that particular archive of memories. It was treacherously easy to get lost in the stacks down there, where tongues of flame filled the air with ash and soot.

Thankfully, Nott didn’t seem to notice his momentary lapse. “No!” she exclaimed. “Not at all!”

Caleb took a few steps further into the stacks of books as he returned to his search, trailing his finger from spine to spine. “Why were they all asking you for coyote blood?” he asked. Beside him he heard Nott’s quiet footsteps as she walked alongside him, her little boots almost noiseless on the thick carpet. It was always quiet in the library, Caleb had found. It was quiet in every library – collections of books always seemed to invite some sense of reverent silence – but the library at Zadash museum was beyond silent. Even with the soft humming of the humidity and temperature controls, even with the distant sounds of the museum’s other departments, the thick, soft green carpet and neatly ordered books seemed to swallow sound whole, gathering it up and trapping it between age-yellowed pages. Even with Nott this close to him, less than a metre from his side, he could still make out her footsteps only if he strained to hear them. Beyond that, the only other sound was that of his finger running slowly along the ridges and valleys of countless spines.

There was a reason why he always found comfort and calm in libraries.

Beside him, Nott continued talking. “They decided to have a scavenger hunt – Beau’s idea, apparently.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “And you did not join in? It strikes me as something that you would have enjoyed.”

“I _would_ have joined in!” Nott retorts immediately. “I would be _amazing_ at a scavenger hunt! I know where _everything_ is! But apparently, they decide that I wasn’t allowed to join in because I would have won immediately. Which, admittedly, I definitely would have done, but it still would have been nice to be included.”

“Oh, _ja_ , I agree – like how it is always nice to be asked to an event even if you already know that you will not go.”

“Exactly! Anyway, I wasn’t included, and for whatever reason they asked Ducey to set the list.”

Caleb nodded. “Hence the coyote blood.”

“Hence the coyote blood,” Nott agreed. “He told me much, much later that there was a coyote in the prep lab at the time. He was expecting everyone to go there.”

“Did they know that the coyote was there?”

“Nope. Well… Beau _might_ have, but no one else did.”

“And would that not be a health and safety risk? Collecting blood directly from a coyote?”

 “He said that he realised that too,” Nott said, shrugging, “but he also thought that it seemed like something that they’d all do.”

Caleb frowned. “Even Fjord? He strikes me as being very sensible.”

There was a long, long pause.

“… You know,” Nott said eventually, “sometimes I forget that you’ve only been here for a few weeks. And then you say something like that, and I remember all over again.”

Caleb’s frown deepened. “Is Fjord… is Fjord _not_ sensible? I would have thought that as assistant director-”

“No, no, he’s sensible, he can definitely be sensible when he needs to be, and he’s very good at his job which we are all thankful for,” Nott interrupted hastily. “But he’s also- he’s a little bit…” she trailed off, giving a slight sigh, and patted Caleb’s back. “One day, ask him about the Captain Tusktooth incidents.”

“…Incidents, plural?”

“Yes. Incidents, plural. Or ask him about the fritters incidents.”

“You seem to have a lot of incidents here,” Caleb muttered, still frowning as he slowed his pace. By all rights, from what he could make out from his understanding of Dairon’s system, the book he was looking for should be right around… _there_.

“We have a perfectly reasonable number of incidents,” Nott replied, as Caleb stretched up a little to tug a large, hardback book down from a higher shelf. “As many as any other respected institution.”

“I am certain that my old museum did not have this many incidents.”

“Your old museum didn’t have a Mollymauk, though. Or a Jester. Or a Beau.”

“Or a you?” Caleb asked. Nott grinned widely, the expression bright and delighted and halfway to a smirk.

“Or a me,” she agreed. “You would know if a museum had a me in it.”

Caleb rolled his eyes, but the action was fond. “Oh, _ja_ , I am sure that we would. And I do not suppose that you would have been the cause of any of these numerous incidents?”

“I may have been the cause of a few,” Nott replied loftily.

“Will I ever find out what these incidents were?”

Nott, somehow, smiled wider. “In time,” she said. “One day you’ll know all the dirty laundry this museum has to offer, I promise.”

“I look forward to it.”

Nott hummed, nodding towards the book in Caleb’s hands. “What book have you got?” she asked, stretching up a little in an attempt to see it. Caleb turned it towards her, showing her the mushrooms that adorned the smooth, glossy cover.

“ _Mycelium Running_ ,” he read aloud. “By a Dr Jaffe, apparently.”

“Huh. What’s mycelium?”

Caleb shrugged. “I have no idea. Honestly, I do not know or understand the contents of a lot of these books, but it is not my job to understand them. I just need to know what we have here, and what we have in the archives, and how to care for and organise them. Caduceus asked me if we had this book or a number of others available – from his email, I think he may be trying to identify a specimen, but I am not sure.”

“Ah, yeah, I understand that,” Nott said, nodding. “I mean, I don’t know _anything_ about coyote blood, but I can tell you exactly where slide samples of it are.”

“Was there anything else on Caduceus’ scavenger hunt list that involved the slides?” _Or the books_ , he thought, quietly hoping that Nott would say no. He was already fond of the self-described ‘asshole group’, and he was sure that the majority of them would at least _attempt_ to treat rare books and delicate specimens with the proper care and attention, but given what he’d already heard of the museum’s assorted ‘incidents’, he wasn’t willing to try his luck.

Still, he found himself almost fond of the light chaos and gentle mania that this museum seemed to house. It felt alive.

“Nah,” Nott replied with a shrug. _Thank the gods_ , Caleb thought. “There were some weird things on the list though.”

“Oh?” he asked, starting to turn towards the exit to the library. Nott followed after him, her hands in the pockets of her button-adorned skirt. Caleb still wasn’t sure what it was with her and buttons, but he wasn’t going to question it. After all, he literally had a cat walking along next to him. A skirt covered in buttons seemed minor in comparison. “What sort of things?”

“You know… a clean brainscoop, a sachet of sugar from the break room, a selfie with Professor Thaddeus.”

“Professor Thaddeus?”

“He’s a really terribly taxidermied owl – he’s got googly eyes instead of glass eyes for some weird reason. He used to live in Shakaste’s office but Beau borrowed him and never gave him back, so he’s hers now.”

That sounded like Beau, Caleb had to admit. He held the door open for Nott as they left the library, walking with her until they got to a split in the corridor. He paused, tilting his head to one of the branches.

“I’m going to give this book to Caduceus,” he said by way of explanation, answering Nott’s slightly puzzled look. “I will be back at the office soon.”

Nott nodded. “Ah, alright,” she said. There was a pause, and then a small, sly smile slipped onto her face. “You go have fun with Caduceus, Caleb.”

Caleb frowned. There were connotations to those words – he could _feel_ it. “…Have you been talking to Jester?”

“…Maybe.”

“ _Nott_.”

“We weren’t talking about anything specific!” Nott said, holding up her hands. “We were just saying, _hypothetically_ , that if a _hypothetical_ mycology curator happened to _hypothetically_ flirt with the new librarian at a museum that-”

“Nott, please.”

“-that _may or may not_ be this one, then if that new librarian was interested then he should definitely flirt back and also drink lots of tea with the mycology curator. _Hypothetically_ ,” Nott added hurriedly.

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “I am going to give this book to Caduceus, and then I am going to return. That will be all.”

“Mhmm, sure. Whatever you need to say to convince yourself.”

Caleb groaned quietly. He could feel himself flushing, and some small, teenaged part of himself wanted to lift up the book he was holding, and hide his face behind it, and not lower the book until Nott had moved away. “ _Nott_ ,” he said again.

“I’m just saying, he’s a very lovely man-”

“Nott, _schatz_ , you have been very welcoming these last few weeks, but I can assure you that I _am not interested in Caduceus Clay_.”

There was a long, echoing pause.

“Alright,” Nott said quietly. “I’m- I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, Caleb. I can stop talking about Cad- about that stuff if you want.”

 _Yes_ , Caleb thought. _Yes, please_. Yes, please, stop talking about Caduceus flirting with him. Yes, please, stop Jester from giving him a knowing grin and a sly wink every time relationships got brought up in the break room. Yes, please, stop him from glancing over at Caduceus a hundred times a minute, unable to get Jester’s words out of his mind.

Yes, please, stop getting his hopes up.

He opened his mouth.

“… _Nein_ ,” he said. “ _Nein_ , no, you can- it is alright. I do not mind too much. It is just- it is- I do not mind. Just not where Caduceus can hear, you know?”

Nott nodded. “I can do that,” she replied. “Do you want me to tell Jester that, too.”

“If you could.” That, at least, might make group conversations a bit less stressful for him. “But, anyway, I really do need to get this book to Caduceus now. I will see you in a bit,” he promised, and then, without waiting for a response, he turned, clicking his tongue quietly to signal Frumpkin to follow, and walked off down the corridor.

Behind him he heard Nott calling out a farewell, but her voice was soon swallowed by the silence of the corridors. Caleb knew the route to Caduceus’ office - a small corner of the mycology department - by heart, the same way he knew where every room in the museum was by now, and he walked there without thinking about it, still mulling over Nott’s words. Both she and Jester seemed insistent that there was something going on between him and Caduceus, for whatever reason, and Caleb still couldn’t figure out _why_. He knew – well, he _thought_ – that Caduceus might like him, and may have been flirting with him, but Caduceus was confusing, and strange, and he seemed to approach everyone the same way, making it impossible for Caleb to really tell. But, even if he _was_ flirting, nothing would come of it. It wasn’t like that.

Caleb blinked, almost surprised to find that he was already almost at Caduceus’ door. For all that the private of the museum felt like a maze at times there were a surprising number of shortcuts, providing secretive, shadowy routes between rooms. Caleb slowed his pace, hovering by the door for a few moments as Frumpkin wound around his ankles, and then, confusingly, on the other side of the door he heard what sounded like someone speaking. Whoever was speaking, it didn’t sound like Caduceus – the voice didn’t have the same low, almost gravelly quality – and it didn’t sound like anyone else that Caleb was particularly close to at the museum, either.

In fact, the more he listened, the more the voice seemed to be speaking absolute nonsense.

_“Everplume, Torrid: cyclonic 2 to 4, occasionally 5 at first, becoming south 3 or 4, occasionally 5 later. Thundery showers. Good, occasionally moderate. Bisaft, Twinsward, Zoon: south or southwest 4 or 5, decreasing 3 at times, showers, thundery for a time, good, occasionally moderate. Marker: south or southwest 4 or 5, decreasing 3 for a time, showers, good, occasionally moderate.”_

The voice continued speaking as Caleb quietly pushed open the door to Caduceus’ office to reveal an almost entirely empty room. It was a soft voice, calm and gentle, and with the door open the words themselves became clearer but no less baffling. As Caleb listened, pausing for a moment in the open doorway, the calm, steady voice continued. There was something bizarrely comforting about it, for all that it was, at least to him, completely incomprehensible; the regular rhythm of numbers and phrases seemed to wrap around his mind, encompassing and distracting his thoughts in a surprisingly calming blanket of gentle descriptions.

And, sitting amongst this fog of sound and words, was Caduceus, looking as calm and as comfortable as ever with a shawl around his shoulders and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

Caleb was so distracted by the voice, and by the sight of Caduceus, that he almost didn’t notice Frumpkin stepping away from his side and starting to investigate the room. For a brief, mercury-swift moment, he almost forgot to watch as Frumpkin started sniffing along the walls and exposed piping.

For the first time in years, he almost forgot to be afraid.

But he couldn’t forget. Not ever. Not really. He felt his gaze pulling itself back towards Frumpkin, watching in silence as the cat wandered silently around the room, tail twitching as he sniffed and inspected. It didn’t take long – after all, Caleb had been in this room before, and the moment Frumpkin returned to him, giving the all-clear signal, Caleb felt his heart settle a little.

And then he looked back towards Caduceus and, unnoticed, his heart picked up again.

Caduceus was leant over his desk on the far side of the room, his hair falling over one shoulder in an elegant curtain of pink and rose as he carefully inspected a specimen before him, turning it back and forth between his long, careful fingers. Occasionally he paused, plucking a pen from behind his ear and fiddling with it briefly before jotting down a note on a sheet of paper, his every action as calm and methodical as ever. His laptop was open beside him, a video – presumably the source of the voice – playing on the screen, but Caleb didn’t pay it much heed.

He _couldn’t_ pay it much heed, not really. Not when the sunlight caught on the drifting dust motes hanging around Caduceus’ head like a shroud, catching gold on the flat plane of his nose and making his already dark lashes look impossibly longer and inkier. Even from this distance, Caleb felt that he could see the shadows they were casting against Caduceus’ skin. Even from this distance, he could see the soft, sunlight-touched pink of the fuzz on his arms.

Unthinkingly, he held the book a bit tighter. Beneath his fingers the cool, glossy cover was slick and smooth, offering no resistance as he brushed his fingers over it. There was no warmth to it. There was no softness. Caleb breathed in, tasting the sharper, cleaner air of Caduceus’ office, and then moved. He crossed the room on feet made quiet by confusion as, around him, numbers and words whirled in an indecipherable blur.

“ _Southern Gate: southwest 4, decreasing 3 at times, showers, thundery later, moderate. Swavain, Panall: south or southwest 3 or 4…”_

“Caduceus?” Caleb called out, raising his voice slightly to be heard above the- above whatever it was that Caduceus was listening to. The longer he listened to it the more a pattern of sorts seemed to emerge, but he couldn’t for the life of him work out what it was describing. The place names were familiar, or were familiar enough, and there seemed to be some indication of weather, but beyond that he had absolutely no idea what any of it was saying.

Across the room Caduceus gave a quiet hum, not yet glancing up. “Mm, yeah?”

“It’s, um, it’s Caleb. I have the book you were asking for.”

“Oh, right, I know.”

Caleb frowned, slowing as he approached Caduceus’ desk. “How did you know?”

“You have a really distinctive walking pattern,” Caduceus commented absently. He jotted down another note before laying the specimen to one side on a tray, tugging off the gloves that he had been wearing and looking up at Caleb with a calm, easy smile. “I reckon it’s to do with Frumpkin, honestly, but some of it could just be, you know, you. It’s really unique.”

“Is that a good thing?” Caleb asked. He couldn’t have stopped himself from asking, no matter how hard he’d tried.

Caduceus nodded, still smiling. “Do you remember what I said to you a couple of weeks ago, at the bar? About uniqueness and strangeness.”

Caleb remembered. Of course he remembered. He remembered the shriek of Nott’s laugh, and the bustle of the bar, and the warmth of Caduceus pressed up against his side, their thighs pressed together beneath the table. He swallowed. “ _Ich- ja_.”

“It’s a very good thing, Caleb.”

“… Oh. _Danke_.”

“Bless you. And,” Caduceus continued, “I got your email about trying to find the book for me, so I figured you might be dropping by with it. I really appreciate that.”

Caleb shrugged, trying to ignore the slight warmth he felt in his face. _Caduceus can recognise my approach by ear. Caduceus already knows what my walk sounds like_. “ _Ja_ , well, it is my job,” he mumbled, glancing away as he held the book out to Caduceus.

“Sure it is,” Caduceus acknowledged, “but Dairon never did book delivery for us. We always had to go pick it up ourselves. Dairon only did book delivery if she particularly liked us, and you had to get in her good books for that. Which could be tricky to do at times.” He reached out with a grin, taking the book from Caleb’s hands. For a moment his fingers brushed against Caleb’s, velvet-fine fur ghosting over skin, and next to the impersonal chill of the cover they felt pleasantly warm. “I hope this means that you like me, Mr Caleb.”

“I do like you,” Caleb blurted, and then immediately snapped his mouth shut, feeling heat suffuse his face. It wasn’t a lie – he knew that – but he didn’t- it wasn’t- he didn’t mean it like _that_. He was sure of it. He just liked Caduceus the same way he liked the others. He just _liked_ him, and nothing else. He liked him as a friend. No more than that.

He was sure of it.

But all the same, he could feel himself flushing. Whatever his brain might know, his body clearly disagreed with it.

“Aw, really?” Caduceus asked, his eyes crinkling and his ears swishing as he smiled wider. “That’s really good to know, I’m glad to hear that. I like you too, Caleb.”

“I- uh- _gut_. That is- _ja_ , that is- that is good to know.” Caleb nodded to himself, stepping back and absently wiping his hands against his trousers. Around his ankles he felt Frumpkin lean against his legs, applying just a touch of grounding pressure. It was good. It was what he needed. “You, um… what are you listening to?” he asked, desperate to change the topic of conversation. Caduceus frowned for a moment, apparently a little confused, but Caleb just had to nod to the video playing on his laptop for his eyes to widen in abrupt understanding.

“Oh!” he said. “Oh, yeah, right, that. It’s the shipping forecast.”

Caleb frowned. “The what?”

“The shipping forecast,” Caduceus repeated, a hint of enthusiasm slipping into his words. “It’s sort of… it’s sort of the weather forecast for all the different regions of ocean surrounding Wildemount, you know? It’s actually really interesting.”

“ _Ja_?”

“Oh, yeah!” Caduceus enthused and, just for a moment, Caleb thought he felt himself starting to smile. There was something infectious about Caduceus’ enthusiasm – he didn’t get louder, not really, but all of a sudden it seemed like there was more life to his words, like he was spending less time thinking about how to say them and was spending more time just speaking, less caring now about the potential for mistakes. It was oddly charming. Caduceus had always felt approachable, even from the very first day that Caleb had spent at the museum, but right now, in this moment, he felt… warmer.

Caleb shifted a little, moving to lean back against Caduceus’ desk without looking away from him. He didn’t want to look away from him. Not right now, when Caduceus looked so unexpectedly passionate and happy and _excited_. “Tell me about it?” Caleb heard himself asking, the words soft on his tongue. “What is- what is it that makes it so interesting, _Herr_ Clay?”

“Well, it’s just fascinating to begin with,” Caduceus said immediately. “They broadcast at exact times a few times a day so that anyone out on the ocean knows exactly when to tune in, which is really a very good idea. I’ve never been able to catch it live, though – I always forget – but there’s a fair few compilations of forecasts online.”

“Do you know when it airs?”

“Not immediately. I can find out, though, if you’d like.”

Caleb shook his head, still smiling. “Oh, _nein_ , but thank you.” That was research he would do himself.

“Alright,” Caduceus said. “But it’s- they really do a lot of work on it, you know. I mean, obviously they don’t have a visual medium to help convey the information like we do with normal weather forecasts, so instead they have this really set pattern that they have to stick to when speaking.”

“ _Ja_?” Caleb leant in a bit closer, one hand absently coming to rest on the desk between them. He couldn’t help himself. Caduceus felt almost magnetic in his enthusiasm, all bright and vibrant as if the autumn sunlight outside had slipped into the room and found itself a home within Caduceus’ chest. “I think I noticed that when I was listening to it.”

“Did you?” Caduceus asked, sounding delighted, and something about his tone made Caleb feel like some of that sunlight that Caduceus was holding had just pressed into his own skin. “That’s- wow. You know, most people don’t pick up on that for a little while. Beau told me that it all just sounded like nonsense to her.”

Caleb gave a small shrug. “I appreciate patterns,” he said simply.

“You strike me as the kind of person who does.”

“Is that another good, unique thing?”

Caduceus smiled wider, shifting in a bit closer to Caleb. “It is,” he confirmed, his voice just a touch quieter. “All of your uniquenesses are good things, Caleb.”

Caleb glanced away. For a moment, he thought he could feel the warmth of Caduceus’ gaze. “ _Danke_ ,” he mumbled, the word soft enough that he wasn’t sure if Caduceus really heard it. “But, um, what else is it about the shipping forecast that is so interesting?”

“Oh!” Caduceus exclaimed. “Oh, you know, for a moment there I almost forgot we were talking about that. But there’s also… well, they have a word limit for it, you know. I’m not sure what it is – Fjord might know – but they have to keep it within a particular number of words. It makes it really stripped down and simple. It’s nice.”

“ _Ja_?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely. Makes it really handy, too – means you can just tune in, listen for a little while, and you’ll know whether it’s good weather to go sailing or not.”

“I was not aware that you were a sailor, Caduceus.”

Caduceus chuckled. “Oh, no, I’m not. That’s much more Fjord’s thing, you know – he knows a lot about boats, and sailing, and knots, and all that. It’s really very impressive. I just- I have my own reasons to listen to it. I’ve been listening to it for a couple of years now. It’s really very comforting, actually. It’s pretty confusing to me, but it’s still nice. I like it a lot.”

That… if Caleb was honest, that made more sense than he thought it would. Even now, having only heard a couple of minutes of the shipping forecast at most, he could understand how Caduceus – or, indeed, anyone – could come to find it comforting. The voice of the announcer was soft and soothing, absolutely calm and level as they delivered the weather forecast in a set, consistent pattern of terms and numbers. There was no haste to their words, no urgency; even as they described approaching storms and gave warnings of ice, of the decks of ships becoming slippery with sea-spray and frost and of boats becoming lost amidst drifting swathes of fog, the speaker’s voice never wavered.

“I think I can understand that,” Caleb said quietly. “It is very… it is almost soothing. It seems nice to listen to.”

Caduceus hummed quietly, lapsing into silence as the words continued to swirl around them. From a glance at his laptop Caleb could see that Caduceus had some sort of compilation of shipping forecasts playing, the strange collections of words playing one after the other with no pauses to break them up, slipping from the end of one to the start of another.

_“And now, the shipping forecast as issued by the Met Department, on behalf of the Greater Wildemount Maritime and Coastguard Agency, at 00:15, today…”_

_I should go_ , Caleb thought to himself. _I should go back to my office. I told Nott I would drop the book off and then return. I do not need to be here. I should go._

He didn’t.

Eventually, after another couple of minutes, the video came to an end. For a moment neither of them moved or spoke, instead just sitting in silence as, from beyond the window, the distant sounds of the city and birdsong started filtering back into the room, filling it with sound once again. Caduceus was the first to break the half-silence, his chair creaking loudly as he shifted to look over at Caleb.

“Thank you for the book,” he said quietly. “Oh, and, Caleb, I meant to ask…” Caleb looked over, meeting Caduceus’ gaze. Caduceus smiled at him, calm and open. “I don’t suppose you’d like to join me for tea?”

In a single, fleeting moment, Caleb remembered every single thing that Jester and Nott had said to him about Caduceus. He remembered them telling him to flirt back, to join Caduceus for tea, to do all these things if he was interested. He remembered what Nott had said to him just before he came to Caduceus’ office. He remembered telling her that nothing was going to happen. He remembered telling her that he wasn’t interested.

 _I am not interested in Caduceus Clay_ , he told himself, lingering on the words just for a moment. As far as he could tell, from his own understanding of himself, it wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t interested in Caduceus.

He wasn’t.

He swallowed.

“…I can do that,” he answered quietly, and Caduceus’ resulting smile was so soft that Caleb could almost feel that.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Caduceus replied. He patted the desk space next to him, standing from his chair and moving over to a small kettle set up in one corner of the room. “You take a seat, I’ll just put the kettle on.”

Moving almost unconsciously, Caleb crossed to the desk and took a seat on the surface of it, watching in silence as Caduceus set about brewing the tea. It was a simple process, with no extra bells or whistles, and soon he was handing Caleb a warm, steaming mug patterned with fern leaves.

“Chamomile,” he said simply, taking a seat next to Caleb on the desk. “I put a little bit of honey in it, though. Figured you could do with some sweetness.”

“Did you?” Caleb asked, taking the mug.

“Oh, yeah. I know you’re a coffee drinker, which means you probably prefer something with a little more punch to it than this, but I find that it can help to soothe people into tea with a bit of sweetness.” His smile widened, just for a moment, and then he lifted his mug to his lips to take a sip.

Caleb followed suit, lifting the mug to his lips. For a moment he paused, breathing in the steam that wreathed around him; it smelled homey, somehow, soft and familiar for all that he’d never had chamomile before. It was a little odd, yes, but it wasn’t unpleasant, and after another few moments he took a sip, feeling Caduceus’ eyes on him the entire time.

The tea was surprisingly sweet on his tongue, clean and delicate and pleasantly floral. There was an almost grassy hint to it, something refreshing that didn’t cut through the comforting, soothing taste of it so much as it complemented it. It wasn’t as bitter as Caleb had half-expected it to be, either, and what tang there may had been was soothed by the touch of honey. He made a small, appreciative noise, and tried another sip. The same delicate taste, the same sweetness. He wasn’t sure if it was something that he would drink regularly, especially seeing how it didn’t contain any caffeine to speak of, but it was… nice. It was simple, and straightforward, and comforting in that simplicity. There was nothing complicated about it.

Surprisingly, he found that he almost liked it.

“So,” Caduceus said, when a few long seconds had passed. “What do you think?”

Caleb swallowed. On the back of his throat he could still taste lingering hints of chamomile, lightened and made sweeter by the honey on his tongue. He licked his lips for a moment, feeling the air of Caduceus’ office touch against them in a soft, cool kiss after the heat of the tea. All around him the air smelled of chamomile and earth; the same scent that had accompanied Caduceus when Caleb had sat next to him at the bar.

Caleb turned his head slightly and drew in a breath. As expected, this close to, Caduceus smelled even more like peat and petrichor than ever before.

This close to, Caleb could feel the warm, consistent heat of Caduceus’ thigh pressed up against his own.

Caleb glanced up, and the late autumn sunlight drifting through the window turned Caduceus’ eyes the same colour as the honey on Caleb’s lips.

Caleb smiled. “I liked it,” he said quietly.

Caduceus’ smile bloomed across his face as soft as sea mist. “Yeah?”

“ _Ja_. It was- it was surprisingly nice.”

Caduceus laughed, soft and low and deep enough that Caleb could feel it in his bones. “Well, I’m glad you thought so, Mr Caleb. I figured you’d like something like chamomile. Something nice and soothing to calm that busy mind of yours.”

“My busy mind?” Caleb asked, unable to stop himself. Caduceus gave a shrug, his shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath the dark fabric of his sweater.

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “You always seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind. You’re always… thinking over things. Looking at things from every angle. It’s really impressive, honestly. I couldn’t do that.”

Caleb ducked his head a little, feeling the tips of his ears starting to flush. He had never done well with compliments, and compliments from Caduceus, in that deep, soft, _honest_ voice of his… those, it seemed, affected him particularly strongly. “Well, _ja_ , but that is- that is my job, after all, and I have not been here very long so I am still working to-”

“I didn’t mean just that.”

That was… unexpected. Caleb frowned, tilting his head up slightly to meet Caduceus’ gaze. “What did you mean?”

Caduceus shrugged again. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I suppose what I meant is that you never quite seem to relax. At first I thought it was just because this was a new environment for you, and the same at the bar, but that’s not quite it.” He nodded down towards where Frumpkin was sitting patiently by Caleb’s feet, his bright yellow harness practically glowing in the sunlight. “And I noticed how you always watch Frumpkin here whenever you enter a new space. Now, I’m not going to ask what Frumpkin does because that isn’t my place, but I figure that he must be important to you and that you trust him to do something that in some ways helps you relax a little, but even when Frumpkin’s done his… whatever it is that he does, you never entirely unwind. There’s always some sort of tenseness to you. And I know it’s not much, and I know that I may be overstepping somewhere here, but I felt that some good, calming tea might help you unwind a bit. Take a little bit of the tension out of your shoulders. Make it so that you don’t have to hunch in on yourself so much, you know?”

For a moment, Caleb could do nothing but stare. Caduceus gave him another soft, vague smile, and lifted his mug to his lips, causing the beetles painted on it to sparkle in the sunlight. His face was almost inscrutable, giving away no hint of what he might be thinking, of what he might be feeling. He just seemed _calm_ , speaking these words as if stating absolute, obvious facts that he didn’t learn so much as inherent _know_.

Caleb knew what Caduceus meant. He _absolutely_ knew what Caduceus meant. He hadn’t been truly relaxed and comfortable for a long, long time, not since Blumenthal, and whatever comfort and trust he had found at the Rexxentrum museum had been shattered not too long ago, leaving splinters in its wake. Caleb knew himself, and he knew his mind. He knew his anxieties, and his fears, and he knew how much he relied on Frumpkin. He knew that, really, he should be searching for a new therapist in Zadash. He knew exactly how much tension he held in his body, and he knew the alertness that was so often sitting at the back of his brain.

He just wasn’t used to people noticing.

He swallowed. “You are- you are a very perceptive one, _Herr_ Clay,” he said, his voice just a little hoarse.

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before.” Caduceus paused, frowning. “I didn’t… I apologise if I made you at all uncomfortable, Mr Caleb-”

Caleb shook his head quickly. “ _Nein, nein_ , you didn’t,” he heard himself saying. “You were simply- it was- a lot of people do not notice the correlation between Frumpkin’s investigation and my- and my comfort.” _And my fears_. “It is just- I am accustomed to it, but it is still odd to have it pointed out to me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Caleb interrupted. “You don’t- don’t be. It is alright.” _I don’t mind it when it’s from you_. “I know that you didn’t meant to be, uh, nosy, or anything like that. So it is- _ja_ , it is alright.” He took another sip from his mug, almost as if he were trying to hide behind the painted ceramic.

“Oh,” Caduceus said again, quieter this time. For a moment, no longer than a second or so, he stared at Caleb, his pale eyes simultaneously sharp and concerned.

And then he nodded to himself, and returned to his tea.

There was little conversation as they both drank their tea, but, to his slight surprise, Caleb found that the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, despite the conversation that they’d just had. It just felt… normal. It felt normal to sit here on Caduceus’ desk, with Frumpkin on Caduceus’ swivel chair and Caduceus himself sitting next to him, their knees knocking as steam kissed warmth against Caleb’s face. It felt normal to listen to the birdsong, and the rushing of cars, and the sound of Caduceus’ breath. It didn’t quite feel normal to taste chamomile and honey, but Caleb felt that, with time, it could be.

Soon, though, they both came to ends of their mugs. Caleb kept holding his once he finished it, trailing his fingers over the cooling surface as, next to him, Caduceus made a small, appreciative sound.

“So,” he said, “what did you think? Was it good?”

Caleb nodded. “It… _ja_ , it was. I am not sure if it will _quite_ manage to replace coffee for me, but I enjoyed it.”

“Good,” Caduceus said. “That’s good. I’m glad you liked the tea.” He half-twisted, going to set his mug down on the desk behind him. The action caused his shawl to slip, sliding down from one shoulder, and before he could stop himself Caleb reached out with his free hand and caught the fabric, tugging it back into place. The fabric was soft, warmed by Caduceus’ body, and against his fingers Caleb could feel the material of Caduceus’ shirt, too. Caduceus reached up, his hand pressing warm over Caleb’s as he tugged the shawl back into place. “Sorry about that,” he said, his hand still resting over Caleb’s. “I forget sometimes that this shawl likes to fall down at inopportune times.”

Caleb swallowed. Caduceus’ hand was so _warm_. “ _Ich- ja_.”

“Thanks for catching it, though. I appreciate that.”

“Mhmm.” Finally, Caleb forced himself to pull his hand away. He wrapped it quickly around his mug again, holding tight as if restraining himself. Restraining himself from what he didn’t know, but that was somehow what it felt like. “I- thank you for the tea, Caduceus.”

“Of course,” Caduceus said easily. “You know, if chamomile wasn’t quite the ideal tea for you, I’ve got plenty of other blends I’ve got mixed up.” He waved a hand, the one that wasn’t still holding his shawl, over in the vague direction of the kettle, and for a single, drifting moment, Caleb thought about putting his mug down entirely and catching Caduceus’ hand with his own. He thought about catching Caduceus’ hand, and tangling their fingers together, and simply holding it in the peace and quiet of his office, learning the sensation of silk-fine fur beneath his fingertips. He thought of listening to Caduceus speak, and settling further into the strange calm that surrounded him and his words.

He thought of, for a space no longer than the pause between thoughts, stepping away from his past, and ignoring the fears slinking at the back of his skull, and no longer being afraid, even for just a moment.

And then the moment passed, and the thoughts left Caleb’s mind, and once again there was nothing but himself, and Caduceus, and a lingering feeling of warmth in his chest.

Caleb smiled. “Well,” he said, “it seems that I will just have to come back to sample more teas.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, _ja_. I cannot put all your hard work to waste, _Herr_ Clay.”

Caduceus laughed, soft and quiet. “Please,” he said, “it’s a pleasure to make tea for you, Caleb. I would hardly call it a hardship – I’d very happily do it again.”

“How about on Thursday?”

The words left Caleb’s mouth without ever once passing through his brain, and the moment he heard himself say them, he felt his eyes grow wide. _Scheiße_. He didn’t- he wasn’t- _Gods verdammt,_ why the fuck did he just say that? He wasn’t being _forward_ , not exactly, because he wasn’t flirting with Caduceus, and he wasn’t flirting with Caduceus because he wasn’t interested in Caduceus that way, but he was certainly being uncharacteristically bold. It was much, much bolder than he normally let himself be, than he normally _was_. Normally he was- well, normally, he was just Caleb. Normally, he was just Caleb, the quiet librarian, with his glasses in his pocket and his cat on his shoulder. Normally he was careful with his words, and cautious in his actions, and especially so now, when everything was still so new and uncertain. He didn’t want to be pushy, or forceful, or give the wrong impression.

(He wasn’t sure what impression he wanted to give to Caduceus. He wasn’t sure at all.)

Caleb felt himself colouring as the silence stretched out. Caduceus, still sitting beside him, didn’t seem immediately annoyed, which was a good sign, but he also wasn’t saying anything either. He was just still and quiet, his face furrowing in a slight frown, his lower lip pulled absently between his teeth as he thought. What about, Caleb couldn’t be sure, and as the seconds slowly ticked past he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to know, either.

And then, after another handful of seconds, Caduceus spoke. “Thursday?” he asked.

Caleb swallowed, nodding. Caduceus didn’t sound annoyed. He sounded considering. “ _J-ja_ , Thursday.”

“I’d like that,” Caduceus said. When he smiled, small and intimate and just for the two of them, Caleb felt his heart skip a beat. “I’d like that a lot.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful art in this chapter was done by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt) and [doodlematte](https://twitter.com/doodlematte)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **July 8th!**


	5. Chapter 5

On Thursday, Caleb visited Caduceus at the mycology department again.

His excuse, officially, was that he needed to remind Caduceus to return the book that he had brought him just a few days previously, given Caleb’s past experience with curators and assorted other museum employees borrowing books and then returning them only when physically threatened. It was, he felt, a pretty good excuse, all things considered. From what he had observed so far, Caduceus had a tendency to be absent, or to zone out of conversations, or to just flat-out forget things entirely, only for Beau or Jester or one of the others to loudly remind him, resulting in his ears giving the little twitch-swish that Caleb had come to associate with him suddenly becoming aware of something. It was quite an endearing action, Caleb thought. It was kind of cute.

Caduceus was kind of cute.

He was kind of cute, and he was undeniably a little forgetful, and though his workspace in the department certainly wasn’t the messiest that Caleb had ever seen – Eodwulf had held that title back in Rexxentrum, and Jester and Nott seemed to be locked in a constant battle for the title here – it was definitely somewhat disorganised. It would be easy for a book to get lost. And, as the head (and only) librarian of the museum, Caleb felt that it was his duty to ensure that all books got returned to their rightful places within a reasonable length of time. It was a perfect excuse. It was flawless.

Apart from the bit where Caleb could just email Caduceus a reminder, the same way he emailed everyone else. That was the only place where the excuse fell apart. Emailing aside, the excuse was unbreakable.

And what mattered, really, was that Nott accepted it. She didn’t even glance up from her desk as Caleb said it, instead just giving a vague hum and a waved gesture towards the door, her focus clearly held by whatever it was that she was looking at on her desk. Caleb didn’t stop to check. He just called Frumpkin to his side, opened the door, and walked down the corridor with a briskness born of efficiency and absolutely nothing else.

He told himself that he wasn’t excited to see Caduceus again. After all, he saw Caduceus practically every day when he joined the others for lunch. There was the odd day when he got caught up in work, or when Caduceus flat-out forgot to leave his office (which, according to the other members of the Asshole Squad, was a surprisingly common occurrence) but beyond that, it wasn’t like Caleb never saw him. He saw him all the time. He got to spend time with him, and chat with him and the others, and listen in to Beau complaining loudly about her interns as Fjord reminded her to _be nice, they might be your colleagues one day_. He saw Caduceus just as much as he saw Jester, or Beau, or Fjord, and he saw him much more often than he saw Yasha, who seemed prone to vanishing without explanation, and yet he never felt the urge to spend any extra time with the rest of the Asshole Squad. He liked them, sure, but seeing them at lunch and chatting with them in the corridor and occasionally after work was enough.

But spending time with Caduceus, outside of lunch, away from the others… that was _different_ , and Caleb couldn’t explain why.

The mycology department was as quiet as ever when Caleb stepped into it, populated only by Caduceus and a single lone intern, poking around in a cupboard off at the other side of the room. The intern didn’t seem to pay him any attention as he entered, but, for some reason, Caleb still felt his heart sink slightly when he noticed them. This time with Caduceus, this quiet, shared time… it was _theirs_ , Caleb felt, even when they’d only done this once before. It was different to spending time with each other when other people were around.

But Caleb wasn’t going to leave just because someone else was – rightfully – working in the mycology department, and so he took a breath, settled himself, and walked further inside.

There was no shipping forecast playing in the department today. The only sound in the room was the quiet shuffling of the intern’s footsteps and the ceaseless drumming of rain against the department’s windows. It had been raining all day, much to Frumpkin’s displeasure – he’d spent a solid twenty minutes grooming himself once he and Caleb had arrived at work that morning – and the sound of it now created a gentle, unbreaking background blur of white noise, masking the myriad creaks and groans that the ancient building liked to make. Caleb crossed the room near-silently, but all the same Caduceus seemed to notice his approach; he glanced up as Caleb grew near, a soft smile blooming across his face that only seemed to grow wider when, behind him, Caleb heard the soft sound of the door shutting as the intern left the room.

Caleb smiled back. He couldn’t help it. “Good afternoon, Caduceus.”

“Good afternoon, Caleb,” Caduceus replied, his voice warm and welcoming.

Caleb moved closer, feeling his heart pick up just a little bit once he became close enough to smell the peat and petrichor scent that seemed to cling to Caduceus’ skin and clothes. “So,” he said, leaning back against the desk with more confidence than he felt. He wasn’t nervous, not really, but he definitely felt more self-conscious than he felt the situation warranted. This was just tea. That was all. There wasn’t anything else going on, he was sure of it. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep talking. “What tea have you got for me today, _Herr_ Clay?”

Caduceus grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll like this one,” he said cheerfully. “It’s real nice; it’s got more of a kick to it than the chamomile. It’s good for keeping you focused, I find.” For a moment his eyes narrowed, just slightly, and when he spoke again there was a tone of almost mock-seriousness to his voice. “Still no caffeine, though. Forgive me for saying, Mr Caleb, but you seem to get enough of that as it is.”

Caleb shrugged, though he knew Caduceus was right. “ _Ja_ , well… maybe so. What is in this one, though?”

“Plenty,” Caduceus replied vaguely. “We’ve got cardamom, star anise, some cinnamon, some cloves, some ginger, a little bit of liquorice root – really good stuff, that, great for the digestion – and then some jasmine and rose petals. You can’t really taste them, I find, but they add a little something.” He opened the tin he had been fiddling with, holding it out to Caleb. “Go ahead and give it a smell – let me know if you like it or not.”

Caleb waved the tin away. “ _Nein, nein_ , don’t worry about that. I trust your judgement, Caduceus.”

“Alright, then. You sure?”

“ _Ja_.”

Caduceus smiled, shutting the tin and moving over towards the kettle. “Suit yourself, Mr Caleb. But if you find that you don’t like this one, just remember that you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“I am well accustomed to that,” Caleb replied absently, following after Caduceus. He leant back against the wall by the little stretch of desk that seemed to be Caduceus’ tea-brewing station, watching quietly as Caduceus dug out a pair of mugs. They were, Caleb noticed, the same mugs as last time, one decorated with beetles and the other decorated with ferns. He wasn’t sure if Caduceus had intentionally picked them out again but, quietly, privately, he hoped that Caduceus had. That would be nice, he felt. That would be familiar. He cleared his throat. “By the way,” he added, watching as Caduceus’ ears twitched to pivot in his direction, “where do, ah, where do you get the jasmine and rose?”

“Oh, I grow it,” Caduceus replied, carefully filling a pair of tea strainers, which was odd. If Caleb recalled correctly, and he was sure that he did, last time he had been here Caduceus had only had the one tea strainer. Maybe, Caleb thought absently, he just hadn’t noticed the second one the first time around.

Either way, the tea strainer mystery could wait. He raised an eyebrow at Caduceus’ back, feeling himself becoming almost impressed. “You grow it? Really?”

“Oh, sure. I’m a bit of a gardener, you know – I’ve got myself a nice little garden back home, and there’s the little grassy area out in the courtyard that I like to cultivate and care for periodically, just enough to keep it ticking over and happy. I’d be more than happy to show you some time, if you’d like.”

Of course Caduceus was a gardener, Caleb thought. The moment Caduceus said those words Caleb felt that he could visualise it immediately – it was so _easy_ to picture Caduceus tending to a garden with the same care and focus that he tended to everything else, dirt dusting his hands and a wide-brimmed hat on his head. It was so easy to imagine him growing flowers, or vegetables, or just about anything.

It was so easy to imagine walking through a garden with Caduceus, listening to him point out all the different plants and herbs and telling him all about them. It was very, very easy to imagine that.

Caleb smiled. “I would like that,” he said. “I would- _ja,_ that would be nice.”

“Ah, that’s great,” Caduceus replied, smiling. “I’d offer to show you now but it’s a bit of a dismal day and I wouldn’t want Frumpkin getting wet. I can’t imagine he’d enjoy it much.”

Caleb gave a short laugh, glancing down to the cat sitting by his feet even as something warm bloomed in his chest at how easily and immediately Caduceus accepted that Frumpkin went everywhere he did. “Ah, no, I don’t think he would.”

“You could get him a little raincoat, though,” Caduceus continued absently.

Caleb nearly choked on air. “A _raincoat_?”

“Yeah, sure. Jester showed me some pictures of them a while ago.”

“For cats?”

“Mhmm, yup.”

Caleb’s next few words were immediate. “Do you have any pictures?”

Caduceus laughed, soft and quiet. “Somehow I felt like you were going to ask that.” He picked the kettle up, staring to pour the steaming water into the mugs. “Just give me a second to brew this and I’ll find you some examples.” Caduceus made the tea quickly, passing Caleb one of the mugs before leaning back against the desk next to him, digging into his pocket and withdrawing his phone. He switched it on, quickly opening the internet and pulling up a few example images. “See?”

Caleb leaned in, his shoulder butting against Caduceus’. “Oh,” he said quietly, as Caduceus slowly scrolled through countless pictures of cats in little raincoats, and cold-weather coats, and, in some instances, tiny little cat booties. They were adorable. They were ridiculous. Caleb was almost tempted to buy one for Frumpkin. “Those are- _ja_ , wow, those sure are something.”

“You can get little transparent ones too, see? So that people can still see Frumpkin’s harness,” Caduceus added, opening one image in particular. It showed a calico cat dressed up in a tiny, translucent raincoat, the hood up over its ears and its fur pattern showing clearly through the clear plastic. “It’d save you from having to take Frumpkin’s raincoat off to show that he’s allowed inside places. He does go everywhere with you, right?”

The question was quick, casual and spoken with the exact same blend of care and vagueness with which Caduceus always seemed to speak. Caleb blinked, momentarily caught off balance as, beside him, Caduceus continued to scroll through the pictures. “…He, uh, _ja_ ,” he managed to say eventually. “More or less. Wherever possible, really.”

“Hmm.” Caduceus hummed quietly, opening and then closing a few more pictures before settling on a final one. “Yeah, transparent would look good on him.” He glanced at his phone and then down to where Frumpkin sat contentedly at Caleb’s feet, grooming himself quietly. “Transparent with these little dots. I think that would be cute.”

“ _Ja?”_ Caleb leaned in closer, peering at the image on Caduceus’ screen. Caduceus obligingly tilted the screen towards him but Caleb didn’t move away, unconsciously enjoying the warmth of Caduceus against his side. He could feel the soft fabric of Caduceus’ cardigan brushing against the exposed skin of his wrist, could smell the peat-petrichor-tea scent of him. He could feel the steam from their mugs brushing against his face. He looked at the image on Caduceus’ screen and then looked down at his cat. “You know,” he mused quietly, “I think you might be right about that. Transparent with dots _would_ suit Frumpkin.”

“Something simple and practical but also not entirely, ah, bland, yeah?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb agreed. He still didn’t lean away. “It would suit him very well. You have a good eye for cat raincoats, Mr Clay.”

Caduceus chuckled, and something in the sound made the back of Caleb’s neck tingle in a not at all unpleasant way. “Thank you,” he said. He turned slightly, meeting Caleb’s gaze, and the soft smile that he gave him warmed Caleb down to his bones.

Caleb didn’t move away from Caduceus as they continued to talk and drink their tea. He didn’t move away when the tea ran out, or when Caduceus took his mug to place them both to one side on the desk, or when Frumpkin jumped up onto the desk next to them, delicately picking his way along the surface to settle down on Caleb’s lap. It was only when Caleb finally accepted that, no matter how much he may not want to, he really did have to return to work that he actually moved, nudging Frumpkin up onto his shoulders and excusing himself with a sigh.

All the same, he paused the moment he reached the door, unable to stop himself from looking back towards Caduceus.

“Would Tuesday work for you?” Caleb asked, his hand still on the doorknob. “For- for more tea?” He didn’t know why he already felt so impatient to spent time with Caduceus again, away from the bustle and noise of their other friends, but he did. Even now, still in sight of Caduceus, Caleb wanted to shirk his duties for longer still, and return to Caduceus’ desk, and do nothing more than sit and talk and listen to Caduceus’ soft, deep voice. Even now, Tuesday seemed too far away.

He didn’t say that, though. He didn’t say any of that. He just watched as, across the room, Caduceus’ eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Tuesday would be great,” Caduceus said. In Caleb’s chest, his heart skipped a beat. “I’ll mix up something special.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Caleb,” Caduceus interrupted. “If I’m going to be the one to introduce you to tea then I’m going to make sure that I introduce you to tea _properly_ , and for me that means making you something special. You liked today’s tea, right?”

“I- _ja_ , I did.”

“So we know that’s a direction of tea flavours that you like, so we can put that on hold for now and see what other directions you might like. Find your range, as it were. And I’ll have the most… let's call it ‘control’ over that if I make them myself.”

“…If you are sure,” Caleb said, his words soft around his growing smile.

“I’ve never been surer of anything,” Caduceus replied easily, and Caleb had to duck his head for a moment just to hide his stupid, damn near _smitten_ smile. Gods, but this was ridiculous. His reaction was ridiculous. He didn’t even like Caduceus like that.

“Alright, then,” he said. “If you must.”

“I absolutely must. Tuesday, yeah?”

“Tuesday,” Caleb confirmed. Somewhere, behind his ribs, he thought he could still feel the lingering warmth of the tea.

\---

On Tuesday, Caduceus served Caleb a tea that was only several shades darker than the soft pink of his hair. It was a slightly richer colour, stronger and deeper, but Caleb couldn’t help but draw the immediate connection.

Caduceus, it seemed, noticed him catching the similarity.

“Corrin used to call it my ‘hair-dye tea’,” he said cheerfully, passing the mug to Caleb. It was the same mug as the last two times they’d had tea together, the one patterned with fern leaves, and Caleb would be lying he said that he didn’t consider it his in some small, insignificant way. “The one time I dyed my hair a little darker than it is naturally it turned all the bathwater this colour. Turned my pillow this colour, too.”

“You dyed your hair?”

“Oh, yeah. Corrin was dying his so I figured I’d join in.”

Caleb smiled, tilting his head a little as he considered Caduceus. “You know, I cannot really imagine you with different coloured hair.”

“Oh, it didn’t last long,” Caduceus replied, laughing a little. “It lasted right about until my parents saw the stain on my pillow. It washed out pretty quickly, though. Clarabelle thought it was hilarious.”

Caleb nodded to himself. That name, Clarabelle, was familiar to him, and it only took a few seconds of thought for him to remember where he’d heard it before. “…Clarabelle was your sister who worked at the funeral home, _ja_?”

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, seeming a little surprised that Caleb had remembered. “That was her. Corrin actually worked there, too. And some of the others. I helped out for a couple of years, too.”

“Do you have a lot of siblings, Caduceus?”

“Oh, I’ve got enough,” Caduceus replied. “Anyway, please, try the tea. Tell me what you think. It’s rosehip and hibiscus today – I figured we could try out some more floral ones, see how you feel about those.”

Caleb nodded, obediently lifting the mug. The smell drifting off it was an odd one, if he were entirely honest – there were definite hints of rose to it but they weren’t as strong as he was quite expecting, weren’t as overpowering as the ingredients Caduceus had mentioned had left him to believe. He tried a sip. The tea touched his tongue, and Caleb’s first reaction was to frown. It was… well, it wasn’t _bad_ , that was for certain. Caleb was rather starting to get the impression that no tea served to him by Caduceus would ever be bad, but it was certainly unusual to him. It was undeniably floral – as was to be expected – but it wasn’t as sweet as the name or the ingredients had led him to believe. There was a tartness to it that the colour and fragrance didn’t give away, and, almost against his will, he found himself taking another sip.

And then another.

With each sip, he felt his confusion grow. He felt like he shouldn’t like the tea, almost – it was exactly the kind of tea that he _wouldn’t_ like in theory, seeing how it was entirely floral with no ingredients that could possibly offset that, but it was almost annoyingly nice and, despite himself, he found himself liking it.

He’d drank almost half of his mug before Caduceus spoke up.

“So you like that one, huh?” he asked, nodding down towards Caleb’s mug. “I wouldn’t have pinned you for a rosehip man, Mr Caleb.”

Caleb hummed. “It… it grew on me. If I am honest, I did not think that I would like it either. Um, no offense meant, of course, it is simply that-”

“No, no, I get what you’re saying,” Caduceus said easily. “No offense taken, I assure you. It’s a pretty floral blend, after all, but it’s never as sweet as people seem to think it should be. Jester seemed pretty disappointed by it.”

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, she said that something that pretty in colour should taste nicer, and then she upended half the sugar pot into it.” Caduceus laughed, low and soft and rumbling like the distant embrace of a thunderstorm. “I made her a nice vanilla blend after that with some roses for colour and left it at that.”

Caleb tilted his head. “Do you make tea for everyone in the museum?”

“Not everyone. Just people who I think might appreciate it, and who I think are… well, not _worth it_ , but you know what I mean. Like, Nott. She’s lovely, very dear, but I once saw her pour a can of energy drink into a bowl of soup and then drink the whole thing, so I’m not sure if she’d notice a specially-made blend.”

“…Did Nott really do that?” Caleb wasn’t entirely sure why he was asking. Even in the relatively limited time that he’d known Nott for, he could so easily picture her doing something just as uncommon and bizarre. “Did that happen?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I saw it myself. So did Beau. And Mr Fjord. I think he called her a ‘tiny goblin of a woman’ and Nott threatened to hit him with her spoon.”

“I thought you said she drank the soup.”

“She did. She just had a spoon anyway.” Caduceus’ brow furrowed. “I think she might have been intending to use the spoon, but then Molly- yeah, that was it. Molly told her that if she mixed the soup with her energy drink he’d give her one of his scarves. I think he said it would be ‘efficient’.” His brow furrowed further still. “Or maybe Beau said that. I’m not sure.”

“…Right,” Caleb said slowly. The more he heard about this Molly character, the more torn he was between desperately wanting to meet him, and never wanting to encounter him if he could possibly help it. From what he’d gathered, Mollymauk Tealeaf seemed like a force of cheerful, generally positive chaos with a penchant for causing disasters while simultaneously doing what he could to make people happy.

Caleb suspected that Fjord had been right when he’d said that Molly could only be described as ‘an experience.’

He looked back down at his mug, taking another sip. “I understand what you are saying, though,” he added, tasting the tartness of the tea settling at the back of his tongue. “I do not - Nott _is_ lovely, I agree with you there – but I do not think that she would, um, appreciate your custom blends.”

“Yeah. I think she’d like them, but I’m not sure she’d… I don’t know how to say this… understand them?” Caduceus said. “For example, I like having this one on rainy days.” He raised his head, nodding towards the heavy, overcast sky outside. “It’s not raining today, but I thought you might like to try it all the same. It’s not really a sunshine tea, you know? It’s sort of… the flowers in it might like the sun, like most things do, but I feel they’re sort of quieter in the tea. More muted, almost. Like a nice sort of promise for when the rain clears.” He took a drink, giving a small, satisfied sigh, and then looked over at Caleb with a smile. “If it gets a bit warmer we could take tea outside some day. If you’d like.”

“I would like,” Caleb said, feeling his smile widen at the immediate, delighted look that crossed Caduceus’ face. “I would like that very much.” He shifted a little, nudging his shoulder against Caduceus’. “Perhaps you could show me that little garden you told me about on Thursday?”

“Oh, yeah!” Caduceus replied, almost visibly perking up. His ears swished a few times in little, excited, happy motions, and Caleb only barely stopped himself from reaching up to feel if they were really as soft as they looked. “Yeah, that would be great! There probably won’t be many flowers around seeing how we’re pretty past that point, but it would still be nice.”

“Well, until the flowers return we can just have more tea inside, _ja_?”

“Yeah. After today, you should really come back more often for tea,” Caduceus added, his ears swishing again. “I like spending time with you like this, Caleb. It’s nice.”

Caleb smiled. “ _Ja_ ,” he replied. “I like it too.”

\---

Caleb saw Caduceus for tea again on Thursday. And on Friday. And on the Tuesday after that. Very quickly, something akin to a pattern emerged. It wasn’t exact, and it wasn’t precise, but within a fortnight or so it became normal for Caleb to visit Caduceus two to three times a week for tea at about the same time, sitting with him and chatting quietly as the tea brewed and filled the air around them with fragrant steam. The conversations varied wildly, going from stories about the numerous incidents that the Asshole Squad had initiated, to questions about how Caleb was getting along with unpacking and settling into his new home, to just discussions about whatever either of them happened to have on their mind that day. Sometimes, there was no conversation at all; they just sat together in silence, drinking their tea and listening to the shipping forecast until the video ran out of recordings or until Caleb had to return to his office.

Somehow, Caleb found that he liked those moments almost as much as he loved talking with Caduceus. There was something undeniably calming about taking a few minutes out from his life to do nothing but sit and drink tea, Caduceus warm against his side and the voice of the shipping forecast narrator as soothing and calm as ever. Everything felt softer in those moments, somehow – it felt as if, for a few minutes, the world had ceased to turn, instead holding itself in suspended time as Caleb felt his mind gently unwind, shedding what stress and anxiety it had accumulated over the last few days or hours. Everything felt more distant, somehow, in a manner entirely different to how dissociation left him feeling; where his dissociation left him feeling numb, untethered and disconnected and horribly, absently adrift, tea with Caduceus made him feel like the very volume of life itself had been turned down, only waiting for him to turn the sound back up whenever he was ready to. There was no rush, no urgency. The tea was brewed, and conversation was had, and, for a moment, there was no worry in Caleb’s head. There was no fear.

There was just him, and Caduceus, and the mug between his hands and Frumpkin by his feet, playing with one of the cat toys that Caduceus now kept on his desk for just these visits. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was nice.

It was, whether Caleb admitted it to himself or not, often the highlight of his week.

And, as it was every time he had plans to meet Caduceus for lunch, it was also something that he was undeniably looking forward to today. A few weeks had passed and he was in earlier than normal, pouring over his desk with Beauregard as, around them, the museum’s ancient radiators slowly creaked to life to warm the bones of the building against the gradually creeping frost. Caleb wasn’t particularly enthused about being in at work so early, but today it was something of a necessity. Beauregard was going to be leaving shortly to do some outdoors research _thing_ with some of her interns, but before she did that she and Caleb needed to decode Dairon’s obscure, bizarre, and downright _infuriating_ method of date marking.

“What the fuck even _is_ this shit?” Beau exclaimed some half an hour after they’d started, gesturing at the newspaper clippings spread out over Caleb’s desk. “Who the fuck even does this?”

“Dairon does,” Caleb answered quietly, tugging off his glasses to rub at his temples. “Dairon thinks that the Sa Ord filing system could do with being changed despite it being a thoroughly researched and well-used standard, and Dairon thinks that the Cobalt Soul filing system needs to be applied in more places, but not all of them, and Dairon thinks that DVORAK is an acceptable keyboard layout, although I do appreciate her changing it back to QWERTY before she left.” Caleb sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before replacing his glasses. The room was still chilly, the museum not yet entirely heated. Around him he could smell the dust that coated the radiators warming and heating, turning the air almost cloying with the scent of old, ancient buildings. Distantly, the radiators creaked, making soft little _ping_ s and _click_ s as the metal piping warmed.

Distantly, Caleb felt the hair on the back of his neck starting to prickle.

“And,” Beau continued, properly worked up now, “she uses a fucking- a fucking _bullshit system_ for marking months! Just _look_ at this! Who the fuck does this?” She grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and held it out towards Caleb, who batted it away almost absently. “Caleb! Caleb, look!”

“I _am_ looking,” Caleb muttered, as all around him the metal continued to quietly, intermittently make small, soft pinging sounds.

“You’re not,” Beau said, nudging his foot under the desk. Caleb nudged back. “Caleb, look. I know you’ve seen this shit already but just _look again_ , alright. I need to be properly pissed about this to your face.” Obligingly, Caleb turned to look at her. Beau leaned in closer, waving the piece of paper between them. “ _Look_. She used fuckin’ ‘U’ and ‘L’ to mark _months_. Who the fuck _does_ that, Caleb?”

“Dairon does,” Caleb replied absently. The sounds of the radiators were becoming more regular as they warmed further, the time between each one decreasing amidst a background medley of the creaks and groans of ancient plumbing.

Caleb didn’t hear the groans. He just heard the sound that was so, so close to one that was horribly familiar to him.

 _Ping. Ping. Ping_. _Ping, ping, ping, pingpingpingping_.

Caleb swallowed. It wasn’t the same sound. It _wasn’t_ the same sound, it wasn’t at all the same sound, but it was close enough to be uncomfortable. It was close enough to be disconcerting.

It was close enough that, at the back of his brain, he could distantly hear the soft, quiet, repeated clicking of a gas stove searching for a spark.

“Fuckin’ Dairon,” Beau grumbled, somewhere off to his side. “Why the fuck would she do this to us, Caleb? We’re good people!” Her voice seemed muffled, somehow, distant as though she were speaking through cotton wool. Caleb gave his head a brief shake, forcing himself to focus back on the conversation at hand. He could do this. He _could_ do this. This was all fine, it was absolutely fine, Frumpkin hadn’t alerted him and so whatever he heard, whatever he smelled, was all in his head. There was no leaking, gathering gas here. There was no spark to set it off. This was fine. _He_ was fine.

He was fine, and with every breath that he drew in he could taste gas clinging to his tongue, gathering like heavy ocean fog at the front of his mind until he could barely think for the memories clouding his thoughts. He tried to focus on Beau, tried to force himself to pay attention to the pattern of her hoodie, and to the gestures of her hands, and to walk himself through some of the exercises his old therapist had given him but it was _hard_ , it was hard and he could _hear_ the stove clicking quietly, the spark bursting over and over and over again as the gas reached out for it and-

“Caleb?”

Caleb blinked and looked up. Beau was looking at him, one eyebrow raised as if she was waiting for a response. A response to what, Caleb didn’t know. Something about Dairon, probably. That would make sense. Caleb swallowed, tasting gas the entire way, and opened his mouth to speak.

Nothing came out.

Beau’s eyebrow dropped, her face shifting into a frown. “Caleb?” she asked again. She reached out, shaking his shoulder slightly. “Caleb! Dude, are you alright? You’ve gone all- all pale and weird.”

Caleb felt his throat working, and after a few horrible, _awful_ seconds, finally managed to produce something that was halfway to a sound. “ _Ich_ \- I’m-”

“What? Are you alright?”

He nodded, the action short and erratic. He was fine. _He was fine_. “I- _ja_ , yes, I am alright, I am fine, I am... I am just…” He swallowed. He could still taste gas on the back of his throat, could still hear the _clickclickclick_ of the stove in his memories blending with the ticking of the warming radiator and it was too much, _too_ much, he couldn’t breathe without his lungs filling with gas and he knew it wasn’t there, he _knew_ it, Frumpkin wasn’t reacting or signalling at all so he was fine, he was absolutely fine, but at the same time he absolutely _had to get out_. He quickly called Frumpkin to his shoulder and stood on shaky legs, reaching up vaguely for his cat as he started to make his way towards the door as calmly as he could. “I am just- I need to- I am just going to go outside for a moment and get some air, that is all, I just- I need-”

“Woah,” Beau interrupted, standing up and reaching for his shoulder again. Caleb shrugged the touch off, already reaching for the door handle. “Woah, dude, hold on-”

“ _Beauregard_ -”

“I’m not stopping you, man, I’m just-” Beau reached past him, pushing his trembling, shaking, _useless_ hand away from the door handle and opening it for him, stepping aside quickly to let him past. “I don’t know what the fuck’s going on but I’m going with you, alright? ‘S my- my fuckin’ job or something. Gotta make sure that all my interns and shit are alright-”

“I am not your intern,” Caleb muttered, his words almost entirely drowned out by his footsteps as he walked as swiftly as he could down the hall. He wasn’t running. He _wasn’t_. He was fine, and he was here, and he was present and aware and he wasn’t caught up in the back of his head where the shadows lingered and the taste of gas coated his tongue like oil. He was fine.

He was fine.

He forced himself to breathe, dragging air down into his lungs and chasing away the smell of gas as he strode through the halls, beelining for the door that led out into the little courtyard between the two wings of the museum. It was a strange little area, one that doubled as a parking lot, smoke break area, and general loading zone as and when needed, and, right now, it was also doubling as a place for Caleb to escape to. The air that hit his face the moment he stepped outside was cool and fresh, steeped with the taste of oncoming rain and so distinctly _different_ to the oil-slick gas that Caleb could feel in his lungs that he very nearly stopped moving just past the door, narrowly avoiding a collision with Beauregard. He forced his feet to keep moving, forced himself further outside, and shivered slightly when the chilly morning air brushed against his neck, soothing and blanketing the prickles that had clung to his skin so recently.

Caleb took a breath, feeling his head starting to clear. He took another, and then another, and with every breath that he took he felt the memories in his skull being gradually pushed back, forcing them back into the shadows where they so often lay. With every breath, he became more aware of the world around him, and less aware of gas, and of fire, and of the pressure weighing down his lungs and making every breath feel like it was being dragged through lead.

And then, when he felt like himself again, he looked over at Beau.

Beau frowned at him.

“You wanna tell me that was all about?” she asked. She had her arms crossed over her chest, hands tucked beneath them in what Caleb could only assume was an attempt to keep them warm, and, to his surprise, she wasn’t actually glaring at him. Instead, she just looked concerned, confused and worried and a little bit uncertain, like she didn’t really know what to do.

Caleb couldn’t blame her for that. Had he been in her place, without any knowledge of his own situation beyond the presence of a cat in a little yellow harness, he would have been lost for ideas, too.

But he wasn’t in her position. He was in his position, and in his position he really, really didn’t feel like explaining. Not now. Not yet. He raised his head, looking resolutely past Beauregard’s shoulder. He didn’t have to apologise for this. He knew that. His past, his privacy… he was allowed to keep that to himself. _It’s alright_. “I would- if it is alright with you, I would prefer not to,” he muttered, looking firmly at the wall just past Beau’s shoulder.

There was a pause.

“…Alright,” Beau said eventually. “No worries, man. You’ve got your own shit, that’s cool.” She tilted her head over towards the door behind them, raising an eyebrow. “You good to go inside now?”

Caleb blinked, following her gesture. That was… if he was honest, that was not at all how he was expecting that to go. He knew that people rarely tended to actually ask follow-up questions, but he still hadn’t been expecting Beau to be so immediately accepting.

“I… _ja_ , I should be,” he replied. “It was just- it was the sound of the radiators, you know, it was-”

“It set you off or something?”

Caleb huffed out a short laugh. “Something like that, _ja_.”

“Mm. If you want, I could head back in and, like, check if the radiators are still pinging up for you? See if it’s all quiet or whatever.”

“This is already- I do not want to inconvenience you, Beauregard-”

“Caleb,” Beau interrupted. Caleb ducked his head, pushing his chilly hands into the pockets of his cardigan as the cold air started to seep beneath his clothes. “Dude. It’s no biggie, alright. This is basically my job.”

“I am not an-”

“You’re not an intern or a volunteer, I know,” Beau said with a sigh. “But you’re still a newbie, so as far as I’m concerned you fall under my wing, and that means looking out for you until you’re settled in. And these are fuckin’ huge wings, alright. They’re like- like- like fuckin’ _albatross_ wings or some bullshit. I can _absolutely_ fit you under my manager-wings, so don’t even think about trying to weasel your way out from them, okay?”

“I- okay,” Caleb said after a pause. He hadn’t known Beau for very long, not in the grand scheme of things, but he had already come to recognise that tone. It was the same tone that she used when she was absolutely, no matter what, _not_ going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It was a tone that couldn’t be argued with, and, right now, Caleb didn’t feel like arguing.

Right now, Caleb didn’t feel like much at all.

“Good,” Beau said. She reached over, patting him on the shoulder around Frumpkin. “Now you just- you stay there, alright, and I’ll head back inside. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, okay?” She patted his shoulder again, waiting until Caleb turned to look at her before meeting his gaze. “You gonna be alright on your own?”

In answer, Caleb merely raised a hand and pointed towards Frumpkin, still sat on his shoulders. Beau nodded.

“Right,” she said. Her gaze shifted, coming to land on the cat instead, and as Caleb watched she raised a hand, pointing at Frumpkin. “You look after him, alright? Make sure he doesn’t wander off.”

Despite himself, Caleb found himself smiling at that. Beau caught his eye, grinning right back, and then patted him on the shoulder again before turning and heading back inside the museum.

In her absence, the courtyard was near-silent. It was still early in the day, the sky still brightening slowly and gradually above the trees and distant buildings, and with every second that passed standing in the still, quiet, cool morning air, Caleb felt himself settling further. He wasn’t _calm_ , not exactly, but he was definitely better than he had been just a few minutes earlier.

 _A false alarm_ , he told himself. He lifted one hand, absently petting Frumpkin. Frumpkin gave a soft purr, butting his head against Caleb’s neck in response. _A false alarm. Frumpkin did not alert me. It was just the radiators. Nothing is wrong_.

Nothing was wrong, and yet the faint, lingering nerves still persisted. Caleb knew that that was standard – this was far from the first time he’d been partially triggered – but it annoyed him all the same, despite the numerous times his therapist had reminded him that this was very much normal and to be expected. No one was expecting him to be magically better after a certain period of time. No one was expecting him to one day shed his trauma and past entirely and be able to act like none of it had ever happened. No one was expecting him to be perfect.

The only person who was expecting any of that was Caleb himself.

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment, and drew in another deep, slow breath. No gas. No spark. No fire. No panic attack, either, and no dissociation. He drew in another breath, feeling the cool air settling in his lungs and touching ice to the back of his throat. He hadn’t ignored the trigger, no, but no one was expecting him to. He’d reacted, and then he’d checked with Frumpkin as best he could, and then he’d done what he could to remove himself from that environment. He’d handled the situation. He’d managed it.

And, soon, when Beauregard returned, he would go back inside, and return to his desk, and he would be alright.

He would be alright.

Just not quite yet.

It only took a few more minutes for Beau to return, her approach signalled by the sound of the door opening into the courtyard.

“Caleb!” she called out. Caleb opened his eyes, looking up at her, and she tilted her head inside the building, one hand holding the door open for him. “All good,” she reported. “The plumbing’s shut up, too. Just the general building creaks and shit like that, now.”

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t have stopped the words if he’d tried.

Beau nodded, her face deadly serious. “I’m sure,” she said. “Promise.”

“…Alright.” Caleb turned, walking up to the door and stepping back inside the museum. For a moment, right at the threshold, he felt the old fear rise up again, weighing him down and reminding him how, out here, there were no pipes to spring a gas leak, but he forced it down and continued inside. He was fine. He was safe. The museum was safe, and he had Frumpkin on his shoulders, and he was alright. He was _fine_.

He followed Beau along the corridors to his office in silence, one hand still resting in Frumpkin’s fur, but when they arrived outside the door he found himself locking up again, unwilling to set foot in the room quite yet. He knew it was a stupid fear, knew it was pointless, but he couldn’t help it.

Beau reached out, one hand on the doorknob, and only paused when she saw the look on Caleb’s face. “…What?”

Caleb shrugged. Gods, how the fuck was he meant to explain this? “I don’t- I am…”

“You good?”

“I- _ja_ …”

Beau straightened up, letting go of the door handle as her gaze flickered over him. “…Not ready to head back in quite yet, huh?”

Not yet. Not for a while. Not until the museum was familiar and safe to him again, at least. Caleb shrugged again, nodding down the hallway. “I think… I am just going to wander, actually.” He knew it was ridiculous, knew that he should be able to easily return to his office now that the moment had passed, but it still felt a little like there was sparks crackling along his nerves, keeping him twitchy and a little off-balance. “Just…you know, take a walk. Um. Inside. Sort of, ah…”

“Reacclimatise yourself to the building?” Beau suggested.

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_ ,” he said, a little surprised. “I- _ja_ , I suppose that would be it.”

“Fair enough. You want me to head on and keep working on the Dairon stuff or…?”

“ _Nein, nein_ , just- we can leave that for now.” Gods knew that Caleb didn’t want to tackle Dairon’s filing system alone, and he actually had experience and training in that area. He would never subject Beau to lone interaction with whatever it was that Dairon had left behind.

Beau shrugged. “Alright, then,” she said easily. “I guess I’ll go check if anyone’s been super keen and weird and has actually turned up early, but I don’t think interns or volunteers are actually, like, physically capable of that. They’ve always got to be late. It’s _genetic_ or something.” She looked back at Caleb. “You look after yourself, alright?” she added, her tone unexpectedly soft.

Caleb felt the corner of his mouth quirk into a small smile. “I will certainly try.”

“Good. See you around, Caleb.”

“See you, Beauregard.”

“And don’t forget,” Beau added, just as she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, “you’re still not free from my albatross wings!”

Caleb gave short, barely-there laugh. Beauregard definitely was a strange one, but she was no stranger than any other museum employee he’d ever met. If anything, she was actually decidedly _less_ strange in certain areas, like she hadn’t quite picked up whatever unique brand of bizarreness tended to latch onto all workers after a while. Caleb started walking, not really thinking of any end destination as he wandered along the corridors and hallways of the museum, still turning Beau’s words and actions over in his mind. He knew it was her job to check in on and manage people, but even then he hadn’t expected her to be so… understanding. Not knowledgeable, not exactly, but _caring_ , thoughtful and polite – insofar as Beau could be polite – and generally _good_. She hadn’t pushed. She hadn’t pried. She’d just checked that he was alright and then done what she could to make the environment safe for him again.

For a moment, Caleb remembered Rexxentrum, but he was quick to push the memories away. _Not now_ , he told himself. There was no point dwelling on what had happened. There was no point on comparing Beau to- on comparing her to others.

Caleb sighed, raising his arms to hug himself as he continued to wander, curling his fingers in the soft, familiar fabric of his cardigan. The corridors were quiet around him, still abandoned this early in the morning, and, almost unbidden, he found his feet carrying him to the mycology department.

Unbidden, he found his hand reaching out for the handle of the door.

And then Caleb froze, his fingers wrapped around the smooth, cool metal. What was he- why was he _here_? He’d just planned to take a short walk along the corridors, smelling the dust and age of the museum and letting himself feel comfortable again. He hadn’t planned to seek anyone out. Hell, he didn’t even know if Caduceus was in – his head was still a bit off, was still a bit unbalanced and bizarre, and his normally exact sense of time was thrown off-kilter, meaning that he didn’t actually know exactly what time it was. He didn’t even know when Caduceus tended to arrive at the museum.

He didn’t even know why he suddenly wanted to see Caduceus so badly.

All the same, he turned the handle.

The door opened with a soft _click_ and swung inwards. Caleb stepped through, hearing the carpet under his feet give way to linoleum and tile. At the edge of his hearing he could hear the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, but the sound was almost entirely muffled by the rumbling of a kettle.

Caleb turned his attention towards the corner of the room. Standing by the kettle, dressed in a loose, comfortable cardigan of dark, earthy brown, stood Caduceus, his pink hair a single beacon of brightness and colour that led Caleb across the floor of the department. He didn’t hear the door shut behind him, but he knew that it must have. He couldn’t hear the radiators heating up anymore, either. He couldn’t smell gas. He could still remember flames, could still remember the scent of candlewax and the sound of the spark, but he couldn’t _hear_ it anymore. The sound was gone. There was no sound here in the mycology department beyond the soft humming of the heating system and the sound of Caduceus pouring the boiled water from the kettle. There was no smell here that was out of the ordinary. As he watched he saw Caduceus’ ears flick moments before the firbolg turned and spotted him, his ears giving a little swishes as a soft smile crossed his face.

“Hey,” Caduceus said quietly. There was a hint of confusion to his voice, but beyond that he seemed only delighted that Caleb had dropped by the department so early in the day. Caleb moved closer, his feet scuffing slightly over the floor. No gas. No flame. All Caleb could smell, all he could see, was Caduceus standing before him, smelling of peat and petrichor and the soft, herbal scent of the tea that he was holding. All he could see was Caduceus’ smile, and how it slowly gave way to a small, concerned frown when Caleb continued not to respond. Caleb watched his frown deepen as his gaze darted over him. He didn’t know what Caduceus saw. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “You alright?”

Caleb swallowed. “ _Ich_ -” he started, but the word withered on his tongue almost immediately as he hugged himself tighter. Frumpkin nuzzled gently against his neck, purring so strongly that Caleb could feel it in his bones. As he watched, Caduceus’ gaze flitted from his face to Frumpkin and then back again, and something in his expression shifted. He didn’t speak, didn’t comment, but instead wordlessly watched for a few more moments, absently turning his mug of tea in his hands.

“You don’t normally come by so early,” Caduceus added, as the silence continued to stretch. “And, I mean, I’m certainly not complaining – I don’t think I could ever complain about seeing you, Caleb – but it’s out of the ordinary for you, and I know how much you like your ordinary.”

Caleb gave a small huff of weak laughter, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Caduceus was right about that. “ _Ja_ , well…” Well what? He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He just knew that he’d stepped foot back in the museum, and had thought _safety_ , and had thought _comfort_ , and that his feet had taken him to Caduceus. He just knew that, here, with Frumpkin around his neck and Caduceus standing before him like a shield, he felt more of the shadows melting away, like the touch of sun on snow. “I was just… I am… I am sorry-”

“No, no, don’t be,” Caduceus said quickly, his voice soft and almost worried. He stepped forwards, placing his spare hand on Caleb’s shoulder, and gently turned him towards the desk. “Go on,” he added, “go take a seat. And, here, have my tea – I haven’t had any of it yet so it’s all clean, don’t worry about that. Give yourself something to hold instead of scratching at your arms.”

Caleb blinked. He hadn’t even realised he’d been doing that, but now that he was paying more attention to himself he could faintly feel his nails pressing through the thick fabric of his cardigan. There was no pain, not with the fabric in the way, but he knew that, had he just been in his shirt, there would be welts rising on his arms already. He reached out, taking the proffered mug, and let Caduceus guide him over to his desk, taking a seat in Caduceus’ chair. Caduceus loomed over him even more than usual like this, but Caleb found that he didn’t mind. Somehow, for some reason, it just made him feel safer.

“Caleb,” Caduceus said again. Caleb looked up at him, meeting Caduceus’ gaze. “Are you alright? You don’t have to explain, that’s fine, I just want to check. Make sure everything’s copacetic.”

Caleb opened his mouth, about to answer, and then shut it again. He didn’t want to lie to Caduceus. He knew that much. He felt that Caduceus was too perceptive, was too aware, to be able to easily accept whatever lie he might present in some half-formed attempt to mask what had just happened. But, at the same time, he didn’t want to tell Caduceus the truth. Not all of it.

Not now.

 _Someday_ , he thought absently. Between his hands, the mug of tea was as warm as touch. _Someday, I will tell him_.

He didn’t know why he felt like he could tell Caduceus some aspects of his past. He didn’t know if he _would_ tell Caduceus. He had told Astrid and Eodwulf back at Rexxentrum, and that had been fine right up until it hadn’t been, and he’d trusted them with every tiny aspect of himself. Things had been fine, and things had been good, and then it turned out that what he thought was true and good and honest and _understood_ just… wasn’t.

But Caduceus wasn’t Astrid. Caduceus wasn’t Wulf. Caduceus was someone altogether different, the same way that Jester wasn’t Astrid. The same way that Nott wasn’t Wulf.

The same way that Fjord wasn’t Trent.

A new place. A new start. New faces, new people, new memories and a new life, taking none of the shreds of the old one with him save for what remained in his mind. He wasn’t going to tell Caduceus, not yet. He wasn’t going to tell anyone yet.

But, at the very least, he could answer Caduceus’ question.

 _Am I alright_?

Caleb knew the answer to that.

He looked up from the drifting, swirling shapes in the steam above his mug, and mustered a small smile. It was weak, as immaterial as smoke, but it was there.

“I’m alright,” Caleb said honestly. “I’m alright now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gorgeous art in this chapter was done by the lovely [Heidi](https://twitter.com/heidzdraws)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **July 15th!**


	6. Chapter 6

There were no more incidents with the radiators, much to Caleb’s relief. After that one day he invested in a pair of good-quality headphones, making sure they were firmly on his ears every time he had to arrive at the museum early. He wasn’t sure how often they actually came in useful, but just having them around was enough of a small comfort.

The one downside from having them, he’d discovered, was that when they were on, he could no longer tell when Nott had left, or entered, the office. Admittedly, even when he wasn’t wearing them he sometimes struggled to notice Nott leaving, which seemed to be what was happening today. It was around lunchtime, and Caleb couldn’t find his slide librarian. He was sure that he’d heard her mention earlier that they could go _somewhere_ for lunch, somewhere that wasn’t the usual break room – he vaguely recalled her sounding very excited about showing him ‘something cool’ – but the exact location had somehow slipped him by, getting lost amongst the Sa Ord filing plan he’d been developing for the library and archive. He rose from his desk, quickly checking his phone for possible missed texts, but saw none.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” he muttered under his breath. He turned slightly, looking at where Frumpkin lay in his bed atop the filing cabinets, his tail twitching slowly back at forth as he surveyed the room. “Frumpkin? I do not suppose you saw where Nott went?”

Frumpkin looked up at Caleb. He didn’t make a sound, still being on-duty, but he gave what was, to Caleb, the clearest indication of a shrug he’d ever seen from a cat.

“ _Scheiße_ ,” Caleb said again. No slide librarian. No slide librarian who he had lunch plans with, and who he was still too afraid to let down. He pushed his chair under the desk and stepped back, absently taking Frumpkin’s leash from a desk drawer and clipping it onto his harness before beckoning him up onto his shoulders. “Come on, _schatz_. We have a halfling to find.”

He pushed the door open and started wandering aimlessly down the corridors, unsure of where to even begin his search. The slide library was the obvious place to start and so he quickly checked there, but he only found an intern retrieving a case of mite slides for one of the researchers in the other wing. After that, he checked the break room, and then the _other_ break room that Fjord sometimes liked to nap in, and still came up empty handed. Outside of those spaces, unfortunately, he really had no idea where Nott could be. She seemed to know the museum inside-out, aware of every single little secret passageway and hidden room that dwelled somewhere within the museum’s walls, tucked away in areas that the original blueprints said didn’t exist. Caleb would know. He’d dug the original blueprints out.

Unfortunately, as he’d been quick to discover, the original blueprints were completely useless to him. As with many museums, the departments and layout had been changed around so many times that only the faintest indication of the original layout remained, with new rooms being added and various walls being removed as the years went on. What was the break room had once been the reptile room, and what was now the reptile room had once been the entomology department, and what was now the entomology department had once been two storage cupboards, the office of the head of birds, and half of the mens bathroom. Caleb could only imagine that some serious reorganising had gone on for that to happen.

What really mattered, though, was that what was currently every inch of the museum he’d checked was entirely devoid of any Nott-shaped figures.

Caleb swore under his breath as he continued along the corridors, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cardigan as Frumpkin sat comfortably on his shoulders. He really, _really_ didn’t want to let Nott down. He knew, logically, that this was a tiny thing, knew that it was lunch and nothing else, but all the same he felt bad. He was supposed to be fitting in, was supposed to be making friends, was supposed to be making a new life for himself far away from Rexxentrum and everything that happened there, and he was fucking it up. He hadn’t listened to Nott, and he was going to let her down and lose her friendship, and he-

And he had just spotted Jester.

“Jester!” Caleb called out. He half-jogged over to her, giving an awkward little wave to attract her attention. Jester turned to face him almost immediately, her face breaking into a wide grin as Caleb came to a stop just before her.

“Oh!” she said, sounding utterly delight. “Caleb! How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Caleb slowed to a stop just before her, frowning slightly. “We- Jester, we ate lunch together yesterday with everyone else.”

“I _know_ ,” Jester said. “That was _so long ago_! And we barely even spoke because you kept talking to Caduceus about some weird boat thing-”

“The shipping forecast.”

“-yeah, whatever that is. And then _Fjord_ got all distracted because he joined you in your weird boat thing, and then you stopped talking to Caduceus because he was talking to Fjord and _ugh_ , but we didn’t get to talk _at all!_ ”

“I am- I am sorry, Jester,” Caleb stammered, feeling a little caught off-balance. To the best of his knowledge, he hadn’t only spoken to Caduceus yesterday. He was sure he had spoken to Beau at some point, or to Calianna, or to Nott, or to _someone_. He couldn’t just have spoken to Caduceus. “I was just-I was asking what times the shipping forecast airs.”

Jester’s nose wrinkled, her tail twitching behind her. “Why?”

“…Curiosity?” That and a few other reasons. Well, one other reason. But Jester didn’t need to know that.

Either way, she seemed to accept the answer. She squinted suspiciously at Caleb for a moment longer, doubt painting her face for all to see, and then, between one second and the next, her expression cleared. “Alright then!” she said. “But I feel like you owe me coffee at some point. For abandoning me.” She pulled a face that made her look rather like a kicked puppy, and Caleb found himself giving a short huff of laughter and rolling his eyes.

“I- you know what, alright, fine, I will get you coffee at some point.”

“ _Fancy_ coffee.”

“Fancy coffee.”

“From Gilmore’s.”

“I will get you fancy coffee from Gilmore’s, Jester. Are you satisfied now?”

Jester smiled, her tail twitching. “Just about. But anyway, what were you going to ask me? Because you looked like you were going to ask me something. You just had that look on your face.”

Caleb frowned. To the best of his knowledge, he didn’t have an ‘about to ask a question’ face, but Jester – and Caduceus – seemed to think otherwise. “ _Ich-_ alright. But, _ja_ , I was looking for Nott – have you seen her?”

Jester frowned. “I think she’s down at the prep lab,” she said slowly. “She said something about, like, wanting to watch Bryce work, or something like that. Which is kind of weird, you know? Because Bryce is probably going to be skinning something, which can get pretty gross, but apparently Nott doesn’t mind gross stuff?”

Caleb nodded. Ah, yes, that would be it. He vaguely remembered Nott mentioning something about that earlier when he’d been eyeball-deep in planning how he was going to reorganise the filing system now that he finally, _finally_ understood Dairon’s system as much as he felt any mortal being – other than Dairon herself – possibly could. It had taken weeks of long, tedious hours trekking back and forth through the library and archives, and emailing back and forth with Dairon’s previous museums to see if they understood any of it, but now, with help from Beauregard, Caleb felt that he was ready to do the impossible. He was ready to reorganise and refile the entire goddamn library.

Which was, he felt, a perfectly valid excuse as to why he’d barely noticed when Nott had stood up on her chair, announced that if Caleb needed her, she was going to be in the western prep lab, and had then fished a small container out of her bag under the desk and proceeded out of the door.

Knowing himself, Caleb probably replied with either a short string of mumbled Zemnian or something that wasn’t actually a word in any language that existed.

“Ah,” he said. “Ah, _ja_ , thank you, Jester.”

“Of course!” Jester chirped. She grinned at him, giving a slight bounce. “Glad I could help you! I’m very helpful, you know.”

“I- _ja_ , I had gathered that,” Caleb said warily. He knew the look on Jester’s face. He recognised it. He just wasn’t sure where from.

“If you ever need any help with anything else at _all_ , just come find me, okay?”

“Okay…”

“That is,” she continued blithely, even as her eyes twinkled with mischief, “if you can find some free time when you’re not in the _mycology department_.”

Ah. _That_ was where Caleb recognised the look from. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying not to audible groan, and willed his hands to stay by his side and _not_ raise to cover his face. “I- _Jester…_ ”

“What?”

“We have talked about this. I don’t- I do not wish to discuss Caduceus with you. Not like- not like _that_. You know I don’t see him that way.”

“ _Have_ we talked about this?” Jester asked innocently. “Because, you know, I didn’t actually mention Caduceus. I didn’t mention him at all. All I said was that you seem to be spending a lot of time in the mycology department these days, and, you know, there’s, like, other people in there too, it doesn’t have to be Caduceus, I never mentioned Caduceus, I only said that you spent a lot of time in there.” She grinned, all sweetness and innocence vanishing in a split second. “I never mentioned Caduceus,” she repeated. “And besides, am I wrong?”

“Are you- am I- _ja_ , you are wrong!” Caleb spluttered, feeling his face starting to flush red. “You are- I am spending a very normal amount of time in the mycology department, Jester. It is just- Caduceus is borrowing a lot of books, and I am trying to be polite and friendly, and so I am bringing them to him. That is- that is all.”

“Hm.”

“It _is_.”

Jester squinted at him, narrowing her eyes. “If you say so…” she said, suspicion and a sort of delighted doubtfulness hanging from every word. “You don’t spend as much time in the art room, though.”

“You do not borrow as many books as Caduceus does.”

Jester gasped. “How _dare_ you? I borrow so many books, all the time! I need them for references! They’re very important. And I bet that you don’t spend nearly as much time in my room as you do in Caduceus’ room.” She smirked at him, wiggling her eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

Good gods, Caleb was going to die. He was going to melt from embarrassment right here and now. He was going to turn into a puddle, and sink into the floor, and never be seen or heard from again, and all because Jester kept on insisting that there was _something_ going on between him and Caduceus when Caleb knew with absolute, definite certainty that there wasn’t. He didn’t even like Caduceus, not like that. He just liked spending time with him, and listening to him talk, and seeing what blends of tea he’d made. He liked hearing Caduceus talking about his plans for his garden, and he liked the warmth of Caduceus against his side, and he liked the peace and quiet and absolute calm safety of the mycology department when it was just the two of them. He liked Caduceus, yes.

But not like that. He was sure of it.

Through sheer force of will, or so it felt, he _didn’t_ immediately melt into the ground or turn and flee, instead standing his ground and doing his very best to meet Jester’s gaze. “Jester,” he said, when his face no longer felt like it was quite so much on fire, “you _know_ that it isn’t like that.”

Much to his surprise, Jester’s face fell slightly. “I know,” she said, her tone surprisingly serious. “But it’s just- you two would be so good, together, you know-”

“Jester, you cannot force people into a relationship-”

“I know, I know, but I just want you to be happy!”

Caleb blinked. “I am happy,” he said, utterly confused. “I am- I am very happy, Jester.”

“I _know_ , but I- I just…” She trailed off, sighing, and crossed her arms. “You could be happier,” she muttered. “And you _like_ Caduceus, it’s so _obvious_ , and I just don’t get why you don’t do anything about it.”

“Because I don’t like him like _that_ ,” Caleb replied firmly, not wanting the conversation to have to go on for any longer than it had to. He knew himself. He knew what he felt. He knew that it absolutely wasn’t a crush, and he also knew that he _did not want to talk about this_. “And even if I did, I am not really looking for anything at the moment, alright? Now, thank you for telling me where Nott is.” He reached out, laying a hand on Jester’s shoulder, and gave a slight squeeze. “And I _am_ happy, Jester. I promise you that. So do not worry about- about my love life, alright?”

She sighed again, but the sparkle had returned to her eyes. “Alright,” she muttered, before stretching up and pulling Caleb into an unexpected hug. “Now, go find Nott! And tell her that I say hi, okay?”

“I will,” Caleb promised, patting her weakly on the back. For an artist, Jester was unexpectedly strong. Sometimes, it made him feel like his ribs were about to give out.

Jester set him back down on his feet – which she had, at some point, lifted him off of – and grinned at him, spinning him gently in place to point him in the right direction. “Off you go! Oh, and if you see Fjord, can you tell him to see me in the art room? I’ve got something for him.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Great! Thank you! Can I pet Frumpkin before you go?”

Caleb smiled. “You may,” he said. Jester gave a happy squeal, reaching out to quickly scratch Frumpkin under the chin and pet his ears, cooing to him quietly. It hadn’t taken long for Caleb to become accustomed to the compliments that Jester liked to shower on his cat, but today she was brief with her affection, and after a minute or so of hearing Jester tell Frumpkin what a good and pretty cat he was, Caleb was on his way again. He walked briskly down the corridor, his strides more confident now that he actually knew where he was going, and soon arrived at the corridor that accessed the majority of what he liked to think of as ‘the weirder areas’. These were the prep labs, the storage units that held frozen wolf corpses, the old, abandoned archival rooms full to the ceiling with shelves upon shelves of things in jars. One day, if he had the time, Caleb thought he would like to catalogue all of them. He knew that would be an impossible task, but he liked the thought of it all the same. 

It was quieter back here, too, but Caleb could still hear voices coming from down the hall – there was one that he vaguely recognised as belonging to Bryce, the chief curator of mammals who he’d spoken with in passing, and there was the high-pitched, speedy chatter of Nott, and below it all was the slow rumbling of Caduceus. Caleb smiled a little to himself when he heard that, walking just slightly faster. It would be nice to see Caduceus again. He’d last seen Caduceus at lunch the previous day, and they had tea planned for tomorrow, but all the same, Caleb wanted to see him. He wanted to spend time with him. He wanted to listen to Caduceus talk, and see his smile, and generally be around Caduceus. He _liked_ Caduceus. He liked him a lot.

The door was ajar when he reached it, letting the quiet conversation beyond out into the hallway. Caleb nudged it open with his foot, cracking it open just wide enough to allow him to peek past it and into the room beyond. It was a fairly small room, just about large enough to hold everything that it needed to, but it was clean and organised, the stainless steel of the prep table gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Caleb could see Bryce and Caduceus standing over the table, conversing quietly over the large feline that was laid out on it. In the soft sunlight Caduceus’ hair somehow looked pinker than normal, as bright and as beautiful as the rose petals used to brew the tea that had unexpectedly become one of Caleb’s favourites. He hoped that Caduceus had it when he joined him for tea tomorrow. He knew that Caduceus still wanted to branch out, but, if he was honest, Caleb didn’t really care about trying to find the perfect blend. He just wanted to spend time with Caduceus, and talk with him, and generally enjoy his presence however possible.

There was a soft shifting sound to one side and Caleb quickly glanced away from Caduceus, abruptly aware that he’d been staring. His gaze fell on Nott, sitting up on one of the counters that ran around the room, a plastic container open beside her. She caught his eye, raising a hand in a quick wave.

“Caleb!” she whispered loudly, beckoning him in. “I thought you weren’t going to join me for lunch.”

“I didn’t hear you say where you were going,” Caleb replied, sidling into the room as quietly as he could. 

Nott sighed, rolling her eyes. “You could have just texted me, you know. You don’t always have to just reply to my messages. You can send messages of your own too, you know.”

“…Oh. I am- I am sorry, I didn’t think you would want me to…”

“It’s alright.” Nott reached out, patting Caleb on the knee before offering him a snack from the open bag she was holding, which Caleb declined with a wave. He’d seen some of Nott’s snacks before, and he’d come to agree with Beau that the best word to describe them was ‘interesting.’ “No snack?” she asked. “Alright, then. More for me.”

Caleb shrugged, nodding over at the table. “ _Ja_ , well, I am- do you normally eat your lunch in here?”

“Occasionally.”

“Even when they are… when they are…”

“When they’re preparing something?” Nott finished for him. “Yeah, even then, if I’m allowed to. Bryce doesn’t mind, and it’s pretty interesting. Do you want to join? I think it’s a lynx today.”

Caleb considered this. “I… I might,” he said thoughtfully, reaching up absently to scratch Frumpkin under the chin. “I do not- I left my lunch in the office, but I think that might be a good thing.”

“Probably,” Nott agreed. “Fjord was super grossed out the first time he saw this.”

“And they- Bryce does not mind you watching?”

“Oh, no, not really. They said it’s educational.”

“I imagine that it is,” Caleb muttered, turning his gaze back to the table, where it seemed that whatever conversation Caduceus and Bryce had been having seemed to be nearing its end. As Caleb watched Caduceus reached out, settling one hand on the lynx’s back, just below the nape of the neck where the fur lay as thick and fluffy as clouds.

“Hey,” Caduceus murmured quietly, carding his fingers through the lynx’s ruffled fur. He wasn’t wearing gloves, but neither was Bryce, so Caleb imagined that it must be alright to touch the lynx without gloves on. And besides, he wasn’t complaining – Caduceus’ fingers were long and delicate, careful and precise as he brushed them down over the nape of the lynx’s neck, skimming them along the length of its spine.

“You good to start?” Caleb heard Bryce ask. He heard the soft _clink_ of metal being lifted from metal but didn’t look over at the elf, instead just continuing to stare from his spot by the door as Caduceus petted the lynx, and then petted it again, trailing his fingers over the curve of its skull and running them behind its ears. The motion was a familiar one to Caleb. The more he visited Caduceus in his office, the more he sat and drank tea with him, the more Frumpkin seemed to like him. At first Frumpkin had been entirely ambivalent, ignoring Caduceus and instead sitting contentedly by Caleb’s feet, but as time passed in minutes and hours and days, Frumpkin had slowly made his way up. At first he’d just been sitting on the desk chair that neither of them used, and then he’d sat beside Caleb on the desk, and then in Caleb’s lap (and Caleb can still remember with perfectly clarity how calmly and confidently Caduceus had reached over one time to scratch Frumpkin where he lay curled in Caleb’s lap, his entire body warm against Caleb’s side and his face so, so close to Caleb’s). 

And then, one day, Frumpkin had sat on Caduceus’ lap.

Caleb watched Caduceus pet the lynx again. His fingers were so gentle and careful, caressing the creature as if it were made of glass even in death. There was no pressure to his touch, no tugging of the fur and no pushing against the skin. He just pet it, the same way he would pet Frumpkin. Briefly, Caleb thought he even saw Caduceus absently scratch the lynx behind its large, fluffy ears, but then Bryce called Caduceus’ name, and Caduceus’ head snapped up.

“Hm?” he hummed. Bryce nodded down at the prep table between them, a scalpel already in hand.

“I was asking if you were ready to begin,” they said again. “Nott just brought in the sawdust. I know you’re a good hand at the table, but I figured we could do with it anyway. Looks like this one was hit by a car, so who knows what state it’s in beneath that fur.”

Caduceus nodded slowly, his ears twitching. They weren’t the soft, happy swishes that Caleb was so good at recognising by now. These were different. “Yeah,” Caduceus said. He looked down at the lynx, running his fingers through its fur once again, and then returned his gaze to Bryce. 

Bryce raised an eyebrow. “'Yeah’ you’re ready to begin, or ‘yeah’, you think it got hit by a car?”

“Both.”

“…Fair enough.” Bryce shrugged, reaching out to the lynx. They picked up one of the lynx’s forelegs in their free hand, moving it carefully. “Hm, as I thought. Just look at this, would you?”

Caduceus hummed again. “Yeah, she shouldn’t- she really shouldn’t be moving like that. That’s properly bad.”

“Broken scapula, do you think?”

“Possibly, yeah.”

Bryce moved the leg a few times, and Caleb felt his stomach twist. He was no veterinarian, and he only knew what biology he’d picked up in his reading, but he knew enough to know that no cat’s leg, be it large or small, should move like that. Bryce hummed. “Yeah,” the murmured. “Yes, I think that’s it.” They put the leg back down, much to Caleb’s relief.

“That’s gross,” Nott muttered under her breath. “I don’t think cat legs should move that way.”

“They really shouldn’t,” Caleb replied, and his words must have come out louder than intended because no later did his say them than Caduceus’ ears twitched, swivelling towards him. 

And then Caduceus looked up, his gaze going immediately to Caleb, and Caleb froze.

He wasn’t- he shouldn’t- well, he wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really. This wasn’t his area, not in the slightest, and for a brief, horrible moment he was worried that Caduceus might acknowledge that and ask him to leave. After all, he wasn’t a curator, or a volunteer, or an intern, or anyone who might actually be expected to hang out in the prep labs. Nott was here, sure, even if she was just alternating between tapping away at her phone and taking bites of her sandwich, but she’d been at the museum for much, much longer than Caleb had. For all Caleb knew, there was some course or another you were meant to take before entering the prep lab. There hadn’t been any courses or suchlike at Rexxentrum, but he knew that all museums were different. He knew that he was new here.

He knew that, unlike Nott, he did not yet have anyone’s friendship. Not properly. Not really.

The thoughts flittered through his head in a split second, all while Caduceus’ eyes remained locked with his own. 

And then Caduceus smiled, soft and gentle and so, so familiar to Caleb, and Caleb felt all the tension in his body vanish. “Oh, hey there, Caleb.”

Caleb smiled back. “ _Hallo_ ,” he said quietly.

“It’s good to see you again,” Caduceus said, tilting his head towards the prep table. “You coming by to see us at work?”

“Um, _nein_. I- I mean, I came by because I was trying to find Nott, but I- I was-” Caleb stammered his way to a stop, eventually giving a sigh and a small, uncertain shrug. “I suppose I have been watching, though. I’m sorry.”

“Ah, there’s nothing to apologise for.” Caduceus’ smile widened, his eyes crinkling and his ears swishing gently. He stepped to one side slightly, inclining his head towards the table. “C’mon, you can come take a look if you want.”

Caleb looked over at Bryce, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is that- would that be alright?”

“Sure,” Caduceus replied, at the exact same moment that Bryce gave a short shrug.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be,” they said, not looking up from their work. “If you’re going to watch, you might as well get a good view.”

“Do I need gloves, or-”

“You don’t need gloves for this one,” Bryce replied absently. “Don’t worry about it. You’re welcome to watch if you want to. If you really want, you can even try your hand at it. Caduceus is a very good teacher.”

“Aw, thanks,” Caduceus replied, his ears swishing. “I wouldn’t say I’m as good as you, though, Bryce.”

“Mm, well, I _have_ been working here for nearly forty years. I would hope that my skills would have improved at least somewhat in that time.”

“Show-off,” Caleb heard Nott mumble from behind him, but the word was fond.

“Well-practised,” Bryce replied. “Are you sure you don’t want to try, Nott?”

“No, no, I’m quite alright just watching. I like my little shiny slides – that’s my comfortable area. This is good to watch, but it’s a bit icky.”

“That’s why we have the sawdust. Thank you for bringing it, by the way.”

“Oh, of course!” Nott gave a small wiggle, shuffling further back on the counter top as Bryce tugged the plastic container of it closer, getting it within easy arms reach. Nott leaned over slightly, beckoning Caleb to move next to her. “Anyway, Caleb, come over here! You get the best view from here because Caduceus isn’t in the way. I mean,” she added hastily, catching the mock-offended look that Caduceus shot he way, “I mean, he’s lovely to look at – not as lovely as Yeza is, of course, but no one is – but he’s also very tall, _especially_ if you’re me. He tends to block out anything that he’s standing in front of.”

Caleb hummed thoughtfully, moving over to lean against the counter next to Nott. “I suppose he could, but he’s also rather skinny. He’s a bit of a beanpole.” This time Caduceus glared playfully at Caleb, and Caleb smiled right back. In the soft pink of Caduceus’ eyes, he could see a sparkle of amusement. He liked it. He wanted to see it more often. “A very lovely beanpole,” he amended, “who returns his borrowed books on time without me having to chase him up about it.”

Caduceus’ mock-angry expression melted into a grin. “I set a reminder on my calendar,” he said conspiratorially, lowering his voice slightly as though letting Caleb in on some big secret. “I wouldn’t want to obtain your ire, Mr Caleb.”

Caleb smiled right back at him. Gods, but Caduceus really did have an extremely lovely voice. “I don’t think it’s even possible for you to do that, _Herr_ Clay,” he replied. 

“Yeah?” Caduceus asked, sounding delighted. “Is that so?”

“Mm, _ja_. You have been nothing but charming so far.”

“Aw, thanks. I try my best.”

Something in Caleb’s chest warmed at the soft smile on Caduceus’s face. He didn’t dwell on the feeling, instead letting the comfortable warmth suffuse through his bones, like sunlight sinking into his skin. “You succeed,” he said quietly. “You are very, very charming.”

Caduceus didn’t say anything, looking back at the lynx laid out before him, but Caleb could see his ears swish-swishing happily. He didn’t stop smiling even as he swapped his scalpel from one hand to another, glancing up at Bryce. Bryce rolled their eyes but likewise didn’t comment, and then, with a nod, they both started to work.

It was… well, if he had to choose a word, Caleb supposed that he would call it ‘fascinating.’ He leant back against the counters as Bryce and Caduceus set to work, his arms crossed over his chest and Frumpkin leaning against his ankles. Both Bryce and Caduceus seemed to know exactly what they were doing – they traded a handful of words, occasionally muttering to each other about the state of the specimen and where they were both going to start from, planning the process they would spend the next few hours on, but beyond that they were silent.

Or, rather, Bryce was silent. Caduceus, Caleb realised quite quickly, wasn’t.

“Hey, there,” Caduceus said under his breath, just after he and Bryce had agreed on their starting points. His words were quiet but still audible above the quiet background hum of the extractor fans, as soft and as calm as always. Caduceus reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding the scalpel, gently petting the lynx’s ears. “Thank you very much for allowing us to work on you, miss. You’re going to be a great contribution to science some day, I just know it. I’m sorry that you came to us in this state but I’m grateful of your presence all the same, and I’m sure that Bryce is too, and so’s everyone else who deals with mammals and felines and all that stuff.” His ears twitched as he briefly inclined his head towards Caleb, though his gaze never strayed from the lynx. “We’ve even got one of your relatives in today, so it’s not just you. Though, he’s in much better shape.” He petted the lynx’s ears again. “If we ever put you out for display, though, we’ll make sure that you look lovely. Essek and Jester are really good at that.” He petted the lynx one last time and then moved his hand, carding his long, careful fingers through the lynx’s fur until he got to his agreed-upon starting point for the preparation. “Thank you for letting us do this.”

After that last, slightly odd statement, Caduceus mostly fell silent. Caleb continued to watch, unable to tear his gaze away as, beside him, Nott munched her way through her packed lunch. Caduceus wasn’t quite as fast as Bryce was, his every action slow and methodical where Bryce’s were swift and certain, and his pace was only slowed by how, occasionally, he would stop his cutting to mutter something to the lynx.

“Whoops, nearly caught your muscle there,” Caleb heard at one point, and “Wow, just look at your fur colouration. That’s just lovely,” at another. Caduceus’ tone never wavered, never being anything but entirely respectful and appreciative of the feline before him, but, all the same, something in his words sat wrong with Caleb.

Caleb shifted from foot to foot, feeling his stomach growing tight with quiet discomfort as the process continued. He knew that he had no obligation to be there, knew that he could just turn around and leave the moment he felt like it – and that, really, he _should_ turn around and leave, and go back to his office, and eat his lunch – but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t look away from Caduceus, or from Caduceus’ hands, even as every other word from Caduceus’ mouth fanned the time-shadowed flames in the back of his memory.

“I’m glad you’re here with us,” Caduceus said quietly, still working industriously. Caleb didn’t know how long a preparation like this would take – several hours at the very least, he assumed – but it looked like Bryce and Caduceus had made good progress in the twenty or so minutes that he’d been watching. “It was your time, but I’m really glad that we could help make something of it.”

“Are you- do you always speak to the- to them like this?” Caleb heard himself asking, his brow furrowed in a frown. Caduceus opened his mouth, about to answer, but before he could, Nott beat him to it.

“Yup,” she said, calmly popping a lemon segment into her mouth. “I’ve watched Caddy work a few times and he’s always been just as- as _wordy_. He likes chatting to them. Don’t ask me why.”

“It’s respectful,” Caduceus said calmly. 

“It’s _weird_.”

“It can be both.”

“And are you not sad?” Caleb asked, too curious and almost jittery to let Nott derail the conversation. He didn’t know why he felt so twitchy. Well… no. That was a lie. He knew exactly why he felt so twitchy. He swallowed, wetting his dry throat and nodding over towards where the lynx lay prone on the table. “Are you not- are you not sad that she died?”

Caduceus shrugged, not even looking up. “Not particularly,” he replied. “It’s a perfectly ordinary part of nature. All things that live will eventually die for some reason or another, and once they’re dead there’s not much that we can do to help them. Death isn’t sad. It just happens.”

Caleb frowned, looking over at Nott. Nott just gave a shrug, finishing up her sandwich, and, in a stage-whisper that somehow avoided spraying crumbs across the stainless steel of the prep table, said, “ _Caduceus is weird like that._ ”

Bryce gave a short, quiet laugh. Caduceus gave a gasp, looking at Nott with an expression of mock-annoyance. “Nott,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “Are you besmirching my good name in front of our friend?”

“Please,” Bryce interrupted, their smile audible in their voice. “Continue to besmirch. I’m quite enjoying this.”

“I meant Caleb, Bryce.”

“You know perfectly well that I’m not going to stop besmirching,” Nott said primly. “And besides, you know that I’m right.”

Caduceus didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, you are right,” he admitted, his face breaking into a grin that warmed Caleb to his toes. “I’m a bit weird.”

“But we’re all weird, though. Even Caleb.”

Caleb huffed a short laugh. “I hope it is a good weird.”

“Definitely a good weird,” Caduceus replied. He turned his head, catching Caleb’s eye, and, just for a moment, his expression softened into something that Caleb couldn’t decipher. “Take it from me. It’s definitely a good weird, Caleb.”

Caleb smiled back, feeling warmth flood his body. “ _Ja_?”

“Yeah, sure. You’ve got a really excellent weird to you, Caleb. I like it a lot.”

“I am- I’m glad to hear that, Caduceus.” He smiled a little wider. “I like your weird, too.”

“Aw, thanks,” Caduceus replied, and for a moment Caleb thought that the grey fur on his cheeks turned just a touch pinker. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Part of Caduceus’ weird is that, for a mycology curator, he’s excellent at skinning mammals,” Bryce interrupted. They looked up, pointing their scalpel at him. “And speaking of, we might have to stay late if we want to get this one finished today, Clay. She’s not the smallest specimen we’ve had in.”

“Ah, that’s alright. I don’t mind staying later. Just so long as it doesn’t cut into tomorrow morning.”

“What’s happening tomorrow morning?”

“We have, ah, we have tea together,” Caleb said, feeling himself pinken slightly when Bryce’s attention turned to him. He knew it was nothing special, knew it was just Caduceus still trying to find and blend the ideal tea for him, but, much like Jester – and Nott, and Calianna – Bryce seemed to think otherwise. They raised a single elegant eyebrow, silent for a few seconds as they read something in his face, and then gave a short nod.

“Alright,” they said, their tone utterly devoid of meaning. “Well, if that happens then I’ll be sure to get an intern to come and help. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your plans for tea.” For the briefest moment, Caleb thought he saw a smile twitching at the corner of Bryce’s mouth, but then the expression vanished.

“If you do that, make sure that they treat her right, okay?” Caduceus asked. “I wouldn’t want her to be disrespected.”

Caleb cleared his throat. “You- you seem to be very respectful, _Herr_ Clay.”

“Ah, yeah, I picked it up working with my family. It’s like… death might be natural and to be expected, but it doesn’t hurt to be respectful of the dead. In every way possible, really. So, it just makes sense to thank her for being here. And besides,” Caduceus continued, his gaze now returning to the scalpel in his hands, “she died for a purpose.”

“What purpose?” 

Caduceus gestured vaguely at the lynx before him. “Well, this. She died so that we could learn. All things have a purpose, Caleb, even death, and it just so happens that her purpose in death was to help us learn more about lynxes. Maybe we won’t learn anything now, or in the next few years, but at some point, some researcher will find her pelt and skeleton and may make an incredible discovery from it.” Caduceus reached out, running his fingers over the lynx’s soft, dappled fur. “It was simply her time to die. It isn’t sad, and it’s not exactly a bad thing, either. It was just nature.”

“Couldn’t she have died later?” Caleb couldn’t have stopped the words if he’d tried. He could feel his heart picking up, drumming faster and faster behind his ribs as, in the shadows of his skull, the quiet clicking of a gas stove sparking started to play on repeat. From the corner of his eye Caleb could see Nott starting to stare at him, her eyes wide and worried, but he couldn’t look away from Caduceus. He _wouldn’t_ look away.

When he swallowed, he could taste gas coating his tongue. 

Caduceus didn’t realise that, of course. None of them realised that. Not Nott, still eating her sandwich, and not Bryce, still working calmly on the lynx as though the conversation wasn’t happening at all, and not Caduceus, looking up at Caleb with what Caleb realised was a faintly bemused expression, like he didn’t quite understand Caleb’s growing ire.

“Of course she could have died later,” Caduceus replied. “As long as there is time things will always be able to die later, but she didn’t. She died now. And so we’ve got to accept that death, and process that death, and move on.”

“Move on?” _Move on, Caleb. It’s been so, so long._

“Sure. Grief is natural, but you can’t let it consume you. She died, and that’s it. No way to bring her back, so we might as well make the most of it.”

“How?” Caleb asked, his words halfway to a scoff. “How do- how do you make the most of a death, _Herr_ Clay?”

“Well, death always has a meaning. Even hers.”

“But what if the death was meaningless?” Caleb snapped. He could feel his temper growing short, could feel his lungs tightening as some awful, horrible combination of fury and pain rose through him. He couldn’t see Bryce anymore. He couldn’t see Nott. He was barely even aware that they were there.

All he could see was Caduceus, and the lynx, and flames that were _entirely his fault._

“What if the death was meaningless?” he repeated, his throat feeling tight and choked. “What if- what if it happened for some stupid, foolish reason, Caduceus? What if people, good people, died because of some mistake when they shouldn’t have, when they did nothing wrong, when I- when someone else caused it even if they did not mean to? Was it their time to die then? Did their death have meaning? _Did it matter?”_

He was shaking, he realised absently. His entire body was trembling, hands balled into fists at his side as the fury and pain and anguish and _guilt_ poured through him, chasing down his veins and wrapping close and tight around his lungs, squeezing and squeezing and _squeezing_ until he could barely breathe, until every breath was a struggle, until he could feel the tears pushing at the corners of his eyes, because who the _fuck_ was Caduceus to tell him when death was important? Who the fuck was Caduceus to tell him that all death had meaning? Who the fuck was Caduceus to say anything, to _do_ anything, when Caleb knew surer than he knew anything else that death could be just as pointless, and as stupid, and as meaningless as anything else?

He thought he felt his nails break skin. He wasn’t sure. Before him, he watched as Caduceus’ face fell slightly, his ears drooping as he paused halfway to speaking. Caduceus still had the scalpel in one hand, still had the other resting soft and gentle in the lynx’s fur, but they were still, now. Everything about him was still. 

Caleb watched him blink. “I… Caleb-” Caduceus said, his voice quiet, and that was as far as he got before Caleb cut him off. He couldn’t have a conversation with him. Not now. Not about this.

He forced himself to take a breath, pushing the air down into his lungs. “I am going to go back to my office,” he said, every word shaking with barely-suppressed emotion. “I have- I have some work that I need to attend to.” He finally pulled his gaze away from Caduceus, sparing just enough thought to give Bryce a brusque, polite nod. “Bryce.” He nodded at Nott, barely registering the sandwich stopped halfway to her mouth or her wide, worried eyes. “Nott.”

Nott swallowed. “Caleb-” she said quietly.

“I will see you back in the office,” he interrupted. Now wasn’t the time for conversation. Now wasn’t the time for discussion. Caleb turned, forcing himself not to look back at Caduceus as he strode towards the door, his feet ringing out loudly on the linoleum and tile right up until he left the room. He walked briskly along the corridor, his hands squeezed into fists so tight that he could feel them shaking, could feel his nails pressing sharply against his palms, and pushed open his office door the moment he was close enough. 

Caleb walked over to his desk, dropped into his desk chair, pressed his face into his hands, and tried to remember how to breathe. In his mind’s eye he recalled Caduceus’ face, how worried and concerned and _confused_ he’d looked at Caleb’s unexplained vitriol and ire, and felt his gut twist. He hadn’t meant to be so sharp. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh. He’d just- he’d heard Caduceus speaking, and he’d heard Caduceus talking, and he’d been unable to stop himself from thinking about his parents. He’d been unable to stop himself from thinking about their deaths.

He’d been unable to stop himself from opening his mouth, and snapping at Caduceus, and ruining whatever friendship they may have had.

The tears that Caleb had been holding back since the prep lab pressed at his eyes again, and this time he didn’t stop them from falling.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. “ _Fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt) on Twitter!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **July 22nd! ******


	7. Chapter 7

Caleb didn’t sleep well that night. He had no dreams, no returning memories of fire or gas or the chill of the graveside, but he woke the next morning feeling just as exhausted as he had when he’d gone to bed. His house was quiet around him, Frumpkin still giving little cat-snores from the end of his bed, and, for a long few minutes, Caleb was sorely tempted to grab his phone off the bedside table, and call Fjord, and tell him that he was too ill to come in. He still had Caduceus’ words echoing in his mind, speaking of death and of loss and of _acceptance_ and _purpose_ , and they tasted like bile on the back of his throat, making his mind flare sharp and prickly whenever he settled on them for too long.

He could just not go into work. He could tell Fjord that he was ill, and Fjord would have no reason not to believe him. Hell, even if Fjord spoke to Nott, he might just find himself _more_ convinced – Nott had looked more than a little concerned for Caleb when she’d returned to the office an hour or so after he did, asking him if he felt alright and seeming entirely unconvinced with his answer. He could very, very easily pass all of this off as illness. He could give himself a day to settle his mind, could allow himself this moment when his brain was hollow and sharp and stained with smoke and let himself rest.

But he had to go into work. He had to. He couldn’t just sit at home and wallow in his own, years-old grief, just because Caduceus had inadvertently said a few things that he really didn’t agree with. He couldn’t take a break just because of that. He couldn’t take that step backwards.

His therapist would not approve, and he knew it. He himself wouldn’t approve either, and especially not not tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d just feel even worse about skipping work, and about lying to Fjord and Nott, and about not seeing Caduceus for tea. That was still something they had planned, after all, and Caleb found that, despite what happened yesterday, he didn’t want to miss that. He liked tea with Caduceus. He liked it a lot.

He took a breath, and then another, and then, before he could convince himself otherwise, sat up and got out of bed. He forced himself through his morning routine, through shaving his face, and packing his lunch, and cleaning Frumpkin’s litter trays, and forced himself out of the house and all the way to his office.

Nott was already there by the time he arrived, tapping away at her keyboard, but the moment he entered the room she looked up, her eyes wide and worried. She gave Caleb a small, concerned smile as he crossed the room to his own desk, and when she spoke her voice was almost cautious. “Good morning, Caleb.”

Caleb tried his best to smile back. He wasn’t sure how well it worked. “ _Hallo_ , Nott.”

“Are you- how are you?”

“Alright.” It wasn’t a lie, technically – he _was_ alright. He was here, and he was ready for a day at work, and the only difference between today and any other day was that his brain was just a little bit… off. It felt a little darker than normal, slower as though weighed down with shadows, but it wasn’t unmanageable. Caleb had dealt with far, far worse headspaces than this one. This one would pass. “ _Ich_ \- _ja_ , I am alright. How are you, Nott?”

Nott shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Are you sure you’re alright, thought? Yesterday you seemed sort of…”

Caleb looked over at her, still unwinding his scarf from around his neck as, behind him, Frumpkin made himself comfortable in his cat bed. “Hm?”

“You know… you seemed sort of… after the lynx…” She trailed off, shrugging again. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you in advance about that. I kind of forget that some people don’t do as well with animal preparation as a lot of us here. We’re a bit-”

“Weird?” Caleb finished for her, and Nott smiled.

“Yeah. Weird.”

“Mm. Well, it is not your fault,” Caleb assured her. “It was- that was very interesting, actually. I had never put much thought into how exhibits and animals were prepared, and it was very… I would like to see it again some time, I think. Watching it was fine. I had no problems with that. It was the, ah… some of the context of the situation, I suppose. It was just- I was not as prepared for that.”

“Oh. Well, as long as you’re alright now.”

“I am, Nott. I promise.”

Nott nodded. Silence returned to fill the room as they both returned to work, but it was only an hour or so later that it was broken by a soft knock at the door. Caleb glanced up, looking over at Nott, who shrugged.

“No idea,” she whispered, before calling out, “come in!”

The door swung in, and something in Caleb’s chest twisted at the sight of Caduceus standing on the other side of it. The firbolg didn’t look any different to how he did the previous day, save for the change in his clothing – he looked just as calm as ever, his face breaking into a soft smile the moment he set eyes on Caleb.

“Good morning,” he said. “And good morning to you too, Ms Nott.”

“Good morning, Caduceus,” Nott replied politely, though there was wariness in her gaze when she glanced across the room at Caleb.

Caleb fidgeted. “ _Guten_ , ah, _guten morgen, Herr_ Clay.” He didn’t feel nervous at the sight of Caduceus, not exactly, but he felt unbalanced, as though the world was shifting slightly beneath his feet.

Caduceus smiled a little wider, and in that moment Caleb realised that, despite what he had initially thought, Caduceus actually _didn’t_ look as calm as he had the previous day – there was a hint of uncertainty to him, signalled loud and clear in the slight downwards tilt to his ears, and the slight tenseness in his smile.

“If I may, Mr Caleb, I’d like to show you something,” Caduceus said, and Caleb hated the uncertainty he could hear in Caduceus’ voice. He hated how he could still hear the warmth, the concern, the undeniable _comfort_ that somehow existed in Caduceus’ voice, and he hated how, above it all, there rested that layer of worry, like Caleb might say no to his suggestion.

As if Caleb could do that. As if Caleb would want to do that.

He gave a small sigh, more to himself than to Caduceus, and looked up at him, removing his reading glasses and tucking them into his breast pocket. “What would you like to show me?”

Caduceus tilted his head out towards the corridor and, almost unthinkingly, Caleb rose from his desk. He knew he would go with Caduceus. He trusted him too much, _liked_ him too much to do otherwise.

And it seemed that Caduceus recognised Caleb’s acceptance, too; his ears gave a small swish when Caleb stood, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth that Caleb ached to see grow. “It’s down by the prep room,” he said quietly. “Although, I will absolutely understand if you would rather not see what I have to show you, given the events of yesterday, but I assure you that-”

“Caduceus?”

“Yeah?”

“Lead the way.”

Caduceus’ smile grew. He waited patiently as Caleb called Frumpkin, the cat jumping down from his bed to stand neatly by Caleb’s feet as Caleb picked up his cardigan from the back of his chair, tugging it on. The whole time he could see Nott’s eyes, dark and worried over her monitor, but he didn’t meet them. He didn’t have any answers for the questions he knew she would want to ask.

Caduceus held the door open for him as Caleb left the room, shutting it behind them with a soft _click_ that echoed down the empty expanse of the corridor. It was still early in the work day and the corridor seemed to be abandoned, no interns running from wing to wing and no employees chatting as they moved between rooms. It was just Caleb and Caduceus, standing together as, beyond the windows, the birds sang quietly.

“It’s next door to where we were yesterday,” Caduceus said. His voice was soft but it seemed loud in the silence of the hallway, enveloping Caleb entirely. He nodded down the corridor, glancing down at Caleb. “It’s a little unusual, but I hope that you find it interesting.” He started moving, leading the way down the corridor, and, unthinkingly, Caleb followed him. He didn’t speak further as they walked and so neither did Caleb. He didn’t know what he would say if he were to speak up, anyway.

Well, no. He knew one thing he wanted to say.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, Caduceus?”

“Mm?” Caduceus hummed, looking over at him.

Caleb raised a hand, fidgeting with the threads of his cardigan. “I wanted to- about yesterday-” _Scheiße_ , why was this so hard? “I wanted to apologise.”

“Oh. For what?”

“I had no reason to snap at you, _Herr_ Clay. That was… _ja_ , it was not your fault. It was not anyone’s fault, but I should not have done it.”

“Oh! Well, that’s alright, Caleb.” Caduceus smiled, his ears swishing gently. “I don’t assume to know why that happened, but it was clear you had a lot on your mind.”

“Perhaps, but I still should not have snapped.”

“We all have to snap from time to time,” Caduceus replied easily. He turned his attention back to the hallway, turning down a hallway that lead to the prep labs. “But thank you, all the same.” He came to a stop just outside the next door along from the prep lab they had been in the previous day. Caleb couldn’t be sure if he was imagining it or not, but he thought he heard the faint, quiet sound of scurrying and scuttling from behind it, like a thousand insects moving together. He glanced down. Frumpkin seemed to have heard it too – his ears were tilted forwards, twitching slightly as he listened attentively, but he didn’t leave Caleb’s side. He knew what his job was.

Caduceus pushed open the door, and the soft, barely audible scuttling sound grew louder. The room looked rather similar to the prep lab they’d been in the previous day, with counters and a fume cupboard and lots of shiny, stainless steel, but it differed in that, where in the other lab there had been a large cooler, in this lab it was replaced with a glass tank. Inside it, Caleb could see thousands of tiny shifting dark brown specks, scurrying back and forth over strange, irregular lumps. He paused just inside the door, still feeling on edge and twitchy, and watched in silence as Frumpkin started to investigate the room. Caduceus waited quietly as Frumpkin carried out his check, standing carefully out of the way of the door in case Caleb needed to bolt. At least, Caleb assumed that was why he was standing there. He seemed to be giving him space, actively trying not to crowd him even in this small, close room. Caleb didn’t dwell on how, normally, he quite liked Caduceus crowding him. He didn’t dwell on how he really rather liked the feeling of Caduceus pressed up against his side, so close that he could feel the laughter that rumbled through him. He didn’t dwell on how, right now, he almost wanted to tell Caduceus to forget about yesterday, and to join him for tea, and to let things continue the way that they had.

He didn’t dwell on any of that. He just waited as Frumpkin careful inspected every single wall and pipe. Frumpkin completed his check quickly, signalling an all-clear to Caleb before returning to his feet.

“Everything alright?” Caduceus asked quietly. Caleb nodded.

“Everything alright,” he echoed. “You can- _ja_ , what are you showing me?”

“It’s at the end of the room.” Caduceus led the way inside, stepping around the wheeled steel table in the middle of the room and walking over to the tank at the far wall. Caleb followed him, his hands deep inside his pockets. He could smell the strange, faintly chemically smell of the lab, just how he had the previous day. It smelled like old chemistry rooms, like cleaning supplies, like the mulch of earth in deep forests and the strange mustiness of old, ancient clothing. It wasn’t unpleasant, not exactly, but it wasn’t exactly _nice_ either.

It wasn’t as nice as Caduceus’ natural scent.

As Caleb moved closer, he started to make out what the shapes in the tank where. They seemed to be tiny beetles, barely more than a centimetre in length, all of them scurrying with purpose over the strange, lumpy, off-white shapes that they were swarming around.

Caleb swallowed. Even from here, a few yards away from the tank, he could tell what one of the shapes was.

Even from here, he could make out the shape of a feline skull.

Caduceus stopped just before the tank, waiting for Caleb to join him before speaking. “These are dermestid beetles,” he said quietly, nodding towards him. “They’re really good and useful little guys. They help us out a lot with animal preparation.”

“What do they do?” Caleb asked quietly, even as he could see the evidence of their purpose before him.

“They clean all the gunk and stuff off the bones once we’re done with the body. They’re much more accurate than a brush or anything, too – they can get in all the pieces we can’t reach. A lot of museums have them, actually. They’re tremendously useful, just really great.” He smiled a little, his expression oddly fond as he watched the tank. For a few moments he was silent, just watching the beetles work. Around them the room was still and quiet, silent save for the soft sounds of the beetles. It was almost peaceful, in a strange, hollow sort of way. “You seemed… uncomfortable yesterday,” Caduceus said unexpectedly, his voice slow and contemplative like he was turning over every word in his mind before speaking it aloud. “With how I was interacting with the lynx. Specifically, you seemed uncomfortable with how I was handling her death.”

Caleb frowned down at the floor, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He didn’t like Caduceus acknowledging his discomfort. _He_ didn’t like acknowledging his discomfort, didn’t even like thinking about it too much, but he couldn’t shy away from Caduceus’ words. They were, as so many of his words were, quietly and absolutely certain, leaving no space for argument or denial. Caduceus clearly knew what he had seen, no matter how much Caleb may want to pretend otherwise.

“I’m pretty perceptive,” Caduceus continued. “I always have been. I’m very good at picking up on… well, lets call them ‘vibes’. Like how Dairon is a DVORAK user.”

Despite himself, Caleb snorted slightly.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Caduceus smile.

“You know I’m right, Mr Caleb. But, as well as that, I get vibes from everyone else – from Fjord, and Beau, and Jester, and even from you.” Caduceus nodded towards the tank again, stepping closer to it. As though tethered to Caduceus by a string, Caleb followed in his wake. “And yesterday I got a very, very clear vibe from you. I think Bryce and Nott may have got it too.”

Caleb swallowed. He felt he knew what the vibe was. Looking back on yesterday now, in a somewhat clearer headspace, he knew that he hadn’t been at all subtle. “You- _ja_?”

“Yeah. Nott seemed worried that she’d made you feel uncomfortable somehow by showing you the lynx. She thought that she should have given you some warning, explained the situation to you, made sure you were comfortable with the slightly grosser behind the scenes bits of a museum, but that wasn’t it. You were fine with the lynx. You were fine watching. I feel, actually, that you would have been fine – if a little tentative – if we’d given you a scalpel and asked you to get to work. You’re a quick adaptor, Mr Caleb. You like your routine, I can see that, but when things change you try to change with them. It’s very impressive.”

“Why am I here?” Caleb asked. His words were quiet, barely more than a whisper. He could smell Caduceus now, could smell the peat and tea scent of him above the chemical-dust background of the lab, and it calmed him somewhat, making his breath come easier and his heart beat slower. “What is the point of this?”

“To show you that death can have purpose,” Caduceus replied simply. He reached out, gesturing to the tank before them. “Like these, see? As I said, these guys are dermestid beetles. They don’t live very long, and they lead pretty simple lives, but what matters to us, right now, is what they do. You see what they’re climbing on?”

“ _Ja_.”

“That’s the lynx from yesterday. We tidied her up as best we could and then we gave her to the beetles. They’ll clean her up properly, getting all the places we can’t reach over the next few days, and then we’ll get her out all shiny and clean.”

“How does this relate to yesterday-”

“It relates, Caleb, because the beetles don’t know that she died. They don’t know how she died, and they don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t see how, maybe a week from now, maybe a year from now, maybe ten years from now, someone will see her skeleton, and examine it, and learn something new. They don’t see that her death has purpose, but they keep working all the same.”

Before them, in their isolated glass tank, the beetles scurried. Caleb tried to follow the path of one, not feeling able to make eye contact with Caduceus in that moment, but the beetle he was following slipped inside the skull, its place quickly taken by another. They worked carefully, it seemed, methodically, slowly cleaning the skull until the true off-white colour of it showed through beneath them. There was a strange sort of beauty to it, how dutifully the beetles attended to their task with no knowledge of its true purpose. They worked with death, and alongside it, and in small, tiny ways, they helped to craft use out of it.

Against his palms, Caleb felt the lines of his nails pressing against his skin. Even if the beetles weren’t there, he thought, the lynx body would still have a use. There were other methods to clean it, and even without cleaning it had value. It had purpose. The body could be examined, or used for teaching, or samples could be taken and preserved in the tiny glass slides that Nott kept in her library. Artists could come in and capture the precise colour and shading of the lynx’s fur. The pelt could be used in an exhibit, or kept for research. The lynx’s exact diet prior to its death could be determined, allowing researchers to better understand how lynx diets may have changed over the years. Even outside of education and research, there was use. Pieces of skeleton could become beautiful jewellery; the body itself could be used to inspire art. The beetles were one tiny part of drawing use and purpose out of the lynx’s death, but they weren’t necessary.

Nothing was necessary. The purpose of the death was inherent to the death itself.

Next to Caleb, Caduceus was still speaking, his voice soft and gentle as though he were talking in a library. “She didn’t have to die when she did,” he said, “but she did, and we can’t change that. That’s simply the course of things. But what we can do, and what we’re attempting to do, is to get as much use out of her death as possible. All death has a purpose, Caleb. All death has a place.”

Caleb swallowed. He couldn’t taste gas on the back of his tongue, couldn’t hear flames crackling in the shadows of his head, but he could taste salt, and knew that he was crying. “What about human death?” he heard himself ask. Somewhere in his chest, something small and sharp and vicious curled up close and tight. “What about- what about firbolg death? Does that have a place too?”

Caduceus didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

“How can you say that?”

“Very easily,” Caduceus replied. He didn’t look at Caleb, still staring into the beetle tank before them. “Death can be sad and still have a place. Everything is mourned for, one way or another. We mourn each other. We mourn for strangers. We mourn for animals, and for and plants and beings that we do not know, and the earth mourns for them, too. The earth takes them, and loves them, and thanks them for what they were and what they did.”

More salt on his tongue, more tears drying sticky on his cheeks “What did they do?” Caleb whispered, hearing the words break in his throat.

It was only then that Caduceus turned to look at him. His sweater rustled softly in the room, sounding almost identical to the scurrying of the insects. For a while he said nothing, just looking at Caleb as though pinning his thoughts down like butterflies. Caleb wanted to squirm, wanted to move away, but he didn’t. Despite everything, despite _this_ , he trusted Caduceus. He didn’t know what Caduceus saw in him, be it good or bad, but he knew that, whatever it was, Caduceus would only be kind about it.

And then, as though he was reading Caleb’s mind, Caduceus smiled. It was a tiny thing, faint and small, but it was a smile all the same. “They lived, Caleb,” Caduceus said. “For as long as they needed to. For as long as they did.”

Caleb looked away, breaking eye contact as he felt his breath catch in his chest, rattling around inside his lungs. He stared unseeingly at the beetle tank, turning Caduceus' words over in his mind. He didn’t know if he agreed with them, not really, but at the same time they weren’t exactly something that he could agree or disagree with. They, like so many of Caduceus’ words, were presented exactly like a fact, absolute and certain with no room for argument. Caduceus always seemed so certain of himself, of his words and actions and purpose. He seemed so certain about this.

For a tiny, fleeting moment, Caleb did too.

Minutes passed as Caleb continued to watch the tank, Caduceus standing patiently next to him. He wasn’t sure what to do with any of this, if he were honest. He wasn’t sure how to properly process Caduceus’ words, and understand them, and then apply them to the death and loss and grief that he’d experienced himself. The lynx was easy to process – her purpose in death was clear and immediate – but it was much, much harder with his parents.

After all, what purpose could their death at his hands possibly have?

Caduceus didn’t speak again, not until Caleb started shuffling a little in place. He looked down at him, seeming to pick up on Caleb’s slight discomfort. “Are you alright, Caleb?”

“Fine,” Caleb muttered. “I am just… _ja_ , I am fine.”

“Mm. Well, if you don’t want to spend more time with the beetles, I’d like to show you something else.”

Caleb nodded. “Alright.” At this point, he couldn’t imagine being shown anything much weirder than the tank full of beetles, but he had to admit that even if the beetles were unusual, they certainly weren’t bad. In their own strange way, they had actually managed to help. Or, rather, Caduceus’ words about them had helped. Caduceus had helped.

Caduceus always helped.

“What are you going to show me this time?” Caleb made himself ask, following Caduceus as he led the way out of the prep lab and down the hallway. “Is it more beetles?”

Caduceus gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head. “Nah,” he replied amicably. “This is pretty different, though I think I’ve actually mentioned it before.”

“Oh? When?”

“One of the times we had tea. You were asking me about the jasmine and rose and I told you that I grew it myself - I mentioned that I cultivate a little garden of sorts here at the museum.” He pushed open the door that led out into the little courtyard between two wings of the museum, wandering over to a small, grassy area tucked up against one side of the east wing. The air was cool and damp on Caleb’s face, making him shiver slightly, but it wasn’t quite cold enough to be unpleasant, and the faint breeze gusting over the grounds felt like it was clearing the cobwebs from his mind.

Caduceus stopped just before a small, slender tree, a cluster of unseasonably early snowdrops gathered at the base of it. They stood out against the brown, muddy ground, so white they almost seemed to be glowing.

“This is where I buried a raven,” Caduceus said without any preamble. He tucked his hands into his pockets, smiling in that strange, indescribably way of his. “I found him dead here a few years ago. I was never sure of what killed him, but it seemed to be peaceful, so it probably  it wasn’t a cat attack.” He paused. “No offense to Frumpkin, of course. But there were no disturbed feathers, no violence, nothing like that. It could have been anything. It looked peaceful. Peaceful deaths are always good. That’s how everyone wants to go, I feel, all peaceful and quiet and content. We don’t always get that, of course, but I wanted to appreciate a peaceful death when I found one. So, I buried him, and let the earth remember how he flew above it, and in return the earth gave us these.” Caduceus paused again, nodding towards the snowdrops. “The earth loves him, and I could appreciate his beauty even in death, and appreciate his life, and now there are flowers on his grave that brighten the lives of those who never even knew that he was here. We didn’t give him to the beetles, or turn him into a specimen, or any of that, but his death was still important. It still happened.”

“But he was just a bird,” Caleb said quietly, before he could stop himself. He understood Caduceus’ words, he truly did, but this- it wasn’t- it wasn’t the same. He knew that Caduceus knew, but he couldn’t stop that thought from echoing through his skull. For as poetic as Caduceus’ words were, for as much as they helped in an unclear but undeniable way, they were still about a bird. They were not about people.

They were not about family.

“Have you ever lost a family member, Caduceus?” Caleb asked. He couldn’t keep the quiet bitterness out of his voice, couldn’t keep out the faint scorn that he so desperately didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be harsh to Caduceus. He didn’t want to be rude, or mean, or unpleasant. He liked Caduceus, liked him a lot, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his friendship.

But he also couldn’t bear the thought of losing his parents, not even now, and he lost them many, many years ago. He was so much better than he was when it first happened, aided by Frumpkin and by his therapist in Rexxentrum – and, in time, a new therapist here in Zadash – but it still _hurt_. He didn’t think it would ever stop hurting. And he needed Caduceus to understand that. He needed Caduceus to understand that, sometimes, death didn’t have any meaning, or any purpose, or any upside that could possibly be squeezed out of it.

Sometimes, death just happened.

Sometimes, death stole away the ones you loved most.

Caleb was expecting Caduceus to say no. He felt that he knew Caduceus, that he understood him, and he felt that, if anyone in Caduceus’ family _was_ dead, he would have mentioned it by now, especially seeing how calm he had been about it the previous day at the lab. Caleb looked up at him, watching as, just for a moment, an expression he hadn’t seen before flickered over Caduceus’ face. It was brief – if Caleb had blinked he would have missed it, but he didn’t. He saw.

He just didn’t know what it was.

“Well,” Caduceus said. His voice was soft, low and slow and as rumbling as always, but it was different, somehow. There was a subtle, more solemn timbre to it, something that Caleb couldn’t quite put his finger on but that he felt all the same. _Oh_ , he thought, and felt his stomach sink. _Oh, no_. “I have, actually. It was a while ago, about five years, but… yes, I’ve lost people.”

Shit. _Shit_. Caleb squeezed his hands in his pockets, feeling his nails biting into the soft skin of his palms as regret rose through him. The bitterness that was in him died immediately, replaced only with guilt and shame and the same loss and longing that he had felt so strongly in the lab yesterday.

That he knew, now, that Caduceus may very well have felt as well.

“Oh,” he said quietly, all anger gone from his voice. “I am- I am sorry, Caduceus.” The words felt hollow on his tongue, empty and useless. He knew how they felt to receive, too, how useless and pointless they were, and hated that he had nothing better to say. He hated that he couldn’t help.

He hated that he hadn’t known.

He swallowed, looking down at his shoes. The ground beneath them was muddy and damp, covered in fallen leaves that had long since lost their flame and fire. There was no amber to them anymore, no hints of gold or red; they were just a dull, mulch-coloured brown, blending in to the earth as the earth slowly took them back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and hope that Caduceus understood what he was apologising for. “I am sorry that- I didn’t- I did not-”

“It’s alright,” Caduceus said softly, interrupting him. Caleb wanted to speak back, wanted to say how it wasn’t, and he knew that it wasn’t because he had been there, but he didn’t. Five years, in the grand scheme of things, was not very long at all. Caleb had lost his parents much, much longer than five years ago, and he felt the sting and ache of their passing every single day. It was definitely lesser now, was significantly more bearable, but it was still there, like an old cut that wouldn’t quite heal. Five years was not that long. Five years was still raw and bloody.

He glanced up at Caduceus. Caduceus met his gaze, his eyes soft in the weak afternoon sunlight.

“Really,” he said. He reached out slightly, his fingers brushing against Caleb’s, and for a moment Caleb was tempted to turn his hand and take Caduceus’ in his own, and hold it in the soft quiet of the museum courtyard, but he didn’t. “It’s alright, Caleb. You didn’t have any reason to know. I never told you, and most people do like to err on the side of… well, on the side of niceness, and assume that most people haven’t lost anyone that they’re close to at this point in life.”

“I should not have- I shouldn’t have snapped-”

“Well, maybe not, but I’m not going to blame you for that.”

_You should have_ , Caleb thought, but didn’t say. His therapist had taught him better than that. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring down at the small flowers before him. He wasn’t about to say ‘thank you’, not for this, but he also wasn’t going to tell Caduceus that he should be blaming him. He was content to stay here, right in the middle between the two options. “…Caduceus?”

“Mm?”

“Who did- who did you lose?” He shouldn’t be asking that. He _knew_ he shouldn’t be asking that. It wasn’t his information to hold or to request, wasn’t his right to know, but the words fell from his lips before he could bite them back and tuck them safely away behind his teeth. If Caduceus wanted to tell him, then he would. Caleb had no right to ask. He knew that.

But, he remembered, as Caduceus gave no indications towards annoyance, Caduceus wasn’t quite like that. He was… different, somehow, odd and strange like he existed somewhere just outside of the world that Caleb knew, where everything was somehow so much simpler. He didn’t seem to mind Caleb’s prying questions, or Caleb’s pickiness over tea, or Caleb’s cat, or his insistence in letting Frumpkin investigate every room before he spent any period of time there or _anything_. He didn’t seem to mind Caleb at all.

He didn’t seem to mind this question.

For a moment, Caduceus was silent. He continued to stare ahead at the tree, his hands in his pockets and his gaze somewhere off in the middle distance, here but not quite, like he was looking at something that only he could see. “My sister,” he said eventually. His voice never wavered. From the tone of his words, they could have been talking about the weather. “Clarabelle. She was my older sister. Oldest out of me and all my siblings, in fact.”

Caleb recognised that name. “You mentioned her at the bar…” he said slowly, his words quiet. “You said that she helped you with your work. With- with what you did with the lynx.”

“Oh!” Caduceus said. For reasons Caleb couldn’t understand, he almost seemed _happy_ , a little bit excited and a little bit surprised, like he was pleasantly caught off-guard that Caleb remembered a single passing fact about his dead sister. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I? Wow. I’m surprised you remembered.”

Caleb shrugged, looking away as he lifted a hand to tap it against his head. “I have a very good memory,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I can see. It’s very impressive.”

Caleb could feel his cheeks darkening at that. Even now, even in the midst of a discussion as sad and as important and as personal as this, he couldn’t help but be touched by Caduceus’ words. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“And you’re right about what I said. It took me a long time to get over her death, and I had the advantage that, working with my family as I had, I was sort of accustomed to the… well, to the natural processes of death, but the personal side was trickier.” Caduceus blinked. Just for a moment, Caleb thought he saw tears in the corners of his eyes. “It was much trickier,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “She died, and I was… well, I think ‘upset’ would be an understatement. I’m not close to all of my siblings – it can be hard to, when you’ve got a lot, and especially when you don’t see a fair few of them very often – but I was close to her. I was very close to her. Whenever she came home we would talk for hours, or play pranks on the others, or generally cause havoc.”

That caused Caleb to raise an eyebrow. “You? Cause havoc?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Caduceus said, his tone picking up a bit. “Yeah, I was a menace when I was younger.”

“ _How_?”

“I used to do things like put millipedes in my brothers’ beds. My parents never approved of it, of course, but I think secretly they found it a bit funny. Oh, and one time Clarabelle and myself managed to get Corrin all the way out of the house and up into a tree while still asleep on his mattress. I was grounded for two weeks after that. It was fantastic. Clarabelle was grounded too, and the first thing we did after we were both un-grounded was do it again. It was great.”

Caduceus spoke easily, no hesitation and no pause as he talked about his now-dead sister. He spoke calmly, as though Clarabelle was just as alive as he was; there was none of the uncertainty that Caleb encountered when trying to talk about his parents; there was none of the struggle.

There was none of that strange, impossible _selfishness_. Caleb knew that it was stupid, how possessive he felt over his parents’ memory, but he felt it all the same – some part of him didn’t want to share stories of them, or talk about them, out of fear that, somehow, doing so would make their memory less real. He knew that he would never be able to forget them, and that talking about them would only let more people have these memories to hold, but, nonetheless, every time he went to talk about them, be it to his therapist, or to Astrid, or to Wulf, he found himself biting the words back, changing the subject to something safer.

Caduceus, it seemed, had no such feelings, but he seemed to recognise them in Caleb anyway. He paused once he’d finished telling his story, looking over at Caleb until Caleb finally lifted his head to look back at him.

Caduceus smiled. “It’s not about mourning the death, Caleb,” he said softly. Around them the wind murmured, rustling the leaves of the tree and making the snowdrops bow their white, bulbous heads. “It’s about remembering the life. That’s the important bit. We can’t change that they’re dead, no matter how much we may wish to. We don’t have magic, or the technology to do that, and wishes only become painful the longer they go unanswered. It took me a while, with Clarabelle. Mourning is important and natural, and entirely to be expected, but you can’t let it consume you. You can’t let it weigh you down, because if you do then you might find yourself getting stuck in the past as the rest of the world keeps on going. It’s good to take some time out, and that length of time varies from situation to situation, but, at some point, you need to work on moving past it. Grief is an active process, Caleb. You can’t be passive in it, or you’ll never leave. Eventually, when the time is right, or when time has started to go on for too long, you need to remind yourself to remember the important things.”

Caleb swallowed. “What are the important things?” he asked, although he knew he already knew the answer.

“The time you had together,” Caduceus replied. “The life that they had. The memories you have of them, and the things that they taught you, and the love that you have for them. That’s what keeps them alive. Not being buried below the ground. That only passes them on. It’s in talking about them, and sharing their memory, that you get to keep them alive. People only really die when they’re forgotten, Caleb. By telling others about them, you keep them alive for longer than they may have lived naturally.”

“…Caduceus?”

“Yeah?”

“You are very good at this.”

Caduceus’ smile grew slightly. “Aw, thank you. I got a lot of practise.”

Ah, yes. Of course. “At the- you said your family ran a funeral home, _ja_?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I didn’t do as much there as some of my other siblings, but you still kind of get the hang of it.”

“And, this…” Caleb trailed off, waving a hand in a vague attempt to encapsulate the entire conversation that had just passed. “Did you do this a lot?”

“I did it enough. A lot of it comes from experience, though. Like I said; Clarabelle really helped with a lot.”

Caleb nodded. “I can… _ja_ , I can see that,” he mumbled quietly. He felt tired all of a sudden, sapped of energy just from the conversation that they’d been having.

There was a pause, and then Caduceus spoke again. “…Do you want to head back inside now?”

Caleb nodded again. He didn’t feel like speaking. Not right now.

Caduceus didn’t seem to mind. “Alright,” he said quietly. He reached out, gently touching Caleb’s elbow, and used the point of contact to turn him around, steering him back towards the door into the museum. “Come on, lets get you inside.”

They walked back to Caleb’s office in silence, hearing the quiet hum of the museum around them. Caleb didn’t look at Caduceus much as they walked, still too lost in his own head, but he looked up once they started getting close to his office.

“I hope this made you feel better,” Caduceus said, once they came to a stop outside Caleb’s office door. “And that it explained anything I said yesterday.”

“It did,” Caleb replied. “It- _ja_. It did both, actually.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Mm.” Caleb hummed quietly, flexing and closing one hand over and over in his pocket. “…Caduceus?”

“Yeah.”

“I am- I am sorry. For yesterday, and for- and for snapping at you, and for thinking that you did not understand-”

“It’s alright,” Caduceus said quietly. He reached out, settling one hand on Caleb’s shoulder. The touch was warm, heavy and grounding, and Caleb never wanted it to go. “You apologised earlier, Caleb. It was alright then, and it’s alright now.”

“But I did not- I did not know about your sister. I should not have assumed, Caduceus. I am sorry for that.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know. And, yeah, the benefit of the doubt can be a pretty good thing a lot of the time, but you don’t have to blame yourself for this. We were approaching the same site from different sides of the hill; we just couldn’t see each other. This isn’t your fault.”

Caleb looked up. Caduceus’ eyes were warm and soft, rose and pink and blush all at once, and for a moment Caleb felt like he couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to look away.

He wanted to move closer.

He wanted to move closer, and take Caduceus’ other hand in his own and, just for a moment, hug him. They’d hardly done anything, had only talked and walked a little, and Caduceus had done the vast majority of the talking, but Caleb felt drained all the same, wrung-out and tired as though he’d run a marathon. He wanted to sit down, and he wanted to rest, and he didn’t want to leave Caduceus’ side, because Caduceus understood. Because, as he knew now, Caduceus had experienced loss and pain and grief, too. Caduceus had experienced it, and had been broken by it, and then he’d done what Caleb had never managed to achieve. He’d processed it truly, and properly, and he’d moved on without losing the memory of that person, the way that Caleb was so afraid would happen. In moving on, in fact, he’d kept the memory of his sister alive. In moving on, he’d become able to speak about her.

Even with his therapist, even with Astrid and Eodwulf, Caleb struggled to talk about his past. His parents lived on only in his memories. They were not shared, were not known by other people outside of those who had known them in life.

They didn’t continue to grow, and to exist, the way that Caduceus’ Clarabelle did.

Caleb felt the tears pressing at the corners of his eyes and swallowed them back. Strangely, he felt no anxiety about crying in front of Caduceus, but he felt that if he were to start crying right now then he wouldn’t be able to stop for the rest of the day, and he didn’t want that. He was already tired, tired from the events of yesterday, and from his poor sleep, and from the worry that had lived in his veins right up until Caduceus had showed him the beetles and explained. Crying wouldn’t help. Crying could wait.

“I-” Caleb started to say, the words cutting themselves off in his throat. “I- _ich_ …”

“It’s alright,” Caduceus said again. “Thank you for letting me explain.”

“You didn’t- you did not need to-”

“I know, but I wanted to. I didn’t want there to be any unpleasantness between us, Caleb.”

Caleb smiled. It was small and weak, but it was there. “I don’t think there could ever be unpleasantness between us, Caduceus.”

“Yeah?” Caduceus asked, his ears swishing.

“ _Ja_.”

“Aw, that’s… that’s really lovely.” He continued to smile at Caleb, his hand warm on Caleb’s shoulder. “…Caleb?”

“ _Ja_?”

“If it’s alright with you, may I hug you?”

Caleb blinked. “You… _was_?”

“May I hug you?” Caduceus repeated, his words just as level and as calm as they’d been the first time he’d said them. “You don’t have to say yes, but I felt like a hug might be good after everything that happened yesterday and today, and-”

“Caduceus?”

“Yeah?”

“You may hug me.”

Caduceus’ response was immediate; he grinned, broad and delighted, and stooped down slightly to wrap his arms around Caleb, squeezing him hard enough to be felt without being constricting. It was a good hug, close and warm and tight. Caleb raised his arms slowly, wrapping them around Caduceus’ form. For all that Caduceus was much, much taller than he was, he was so slender that Caleb found that he could hug him easily, his arms neatly enveloping the firbolg. He could feel the softness of Caduceus’ bee-patterned sweater pressing against his hands, could feel it against his face and, after a moment, he let himself shut his eyes.

Beneath his head he could hear Caduceus’ heart drumming away, slow and steady and certain. It rang through his skull like a metronome, counting out the passing seconds as the remaining tightness in his chest slowly melted away, leaving him comfortable and relaxed against Caduceus’ chest. There was no stress here. There was no fear. There was just Caduceus, his arms warm and certain around Caleb’s back and his chin resting on Caleb’s head as though holding him together through force of will alone.

Caleb took a deep, slow breath, pulling the air down into his lungs and chasing out the soot and ash and cinders that remained.

Here, with his face pressed to Caduceus’ chest, Caleb thought he could smell just a hint of rosehip tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New art by the wonderful [doodlematte](https://twitter.com/doodlematte) has been added to [chapter 4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161865/chapters/46246678)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **July 29th!**


	8. Chapter 8

Things felt different after his talk with Caduceus. Not bad different, and not exactly good different either, but different all the same, as though a pair of stuck cogs that existed somewhere in their strange, indescribable friendship had finally become unjammed, making everything flow more smoothly. There had never really been any tension between them to begin with, save for what anxious falsehoods Caleb’s mind dreamed up, but things seemed easier anyway. Caduceus, impossibly, felt even warmer and more comforting than he had before, more prone to casting smiles in Caleb’s direction over the heads of Beau and Jester while they were bickering in the break room. Caleb found himself sitting closer to him without meaning to, automatically dropping into the space next to him on the couch or hopping up to sit on his desk when visiting, putting himself at Caduceus’ eye-level until Caduceus sat on the desk with him. It was nice. Being with Caduceus was nice. Things felt easy, simple and uncomplicated, and, for the first time since Rexxentrum, Caleb started finding himself actually, truly, entirely relaxing.

It wasn’t just with Caduceus, either. The calm that he shared with Caduceus seemed to echo through his other friendships at the museum, making things easier and less stressful. He hadn’t told anyone anything new, and he still hadn’t explained the true reason for his panic to Beauregard, but, at times, he felt closer to it.

He felt closer to everyone at the museum. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence now for Beau to join him in his office for a chat or for further deciphering of Dairon’s system, or just to hang out in silence as they were doing today, with Caleb working at his computer while Beau did _something_ on her phone. Caleb wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t really been paying much attention to her since she’d waved a hand at him to get back to work almost half an hour ago. It was only when she spoke that he paid her any heed for the for first time in a short while.

“Caleb?” Beau asked. Caleb hummed, not looking up from his computer.

“Mm?”

“Did you ever know a- a _Vix_? At your old museum?”

That gave Caleb pause. He looked up, frowning over at Beau, and then frowned further still when he noticed her feet, propped up on the corner of his desk. Beau met his gaze unflinchingly. “Well?” she asked. “Do you?”

Caleb gave her feet a pointed glare. Beau merely raised an eyebrow at him, giving a small, uncaring shrug which made Caleb sigh. “Fine,” he muttered. He recognised that expression on Beau’s face. At least she wasn’t wearing her hiking boots today. “And I might. Why do you need to know?

Beau’s expression didn’t change.  “Molly’s telling me to visit him at the museum and I need to know if he’s fucking with me about this hot woman.”

Caleb paused. “…What did you say her name was again?”

Beau glanced at her phone. “Uh… Vix?” she replied. “Molly’s not sure on that, though.”

“Do you have a description?”

Wordlessly, Beau passed her phone to Caleb. Caleb took it, flicking through the traded messages.

> **[From: purple asshole]** beau you need to come visit me at this museum asap okay  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** there’s this woman in the mammals department who would ruin you  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** like  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** walk all over you and youll thank her for it ruin you  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** beat you up and you’ll ask for more ruin you
> 
> **[To: purple asshole]** wait what  
>  **[To: purple asshole]** who
> 
> **[From: purple asshole]** idk some half elf???  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** I think her name is vix or something  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** she’s got incredible boobs and dark hair and she does archery so her arms are SPECTACULAR  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** I bet she could benchpress you  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** like the way you wanted Yasha to before you found out she has a wife
> 
> **[To: purple asshole]** oh holy fukkc hghjk

“Ignore that first bit,” Beau said quickly, her face turning an almost alarming shade of scarlet. “Just- just tell me if Molly is fucking with me, alright? Rexxentrum is fuckin’ far away so if I’m visiting him he’d better make the trip worth it.”

Caleb hummed quietly, tapping his thumbnail against his lip as he thought for a moment. He hadn’t been the most sociable individual at his previous museum for a number of reasons – outside of Wulf and Astrid, there had never been many people who he really got on with – but you couldn’t work at a place for over five years without getting to know some people in the other departments. Even an anxious, socially awkward individual such as himself still came to recognise a number of the more familiar faces.

And, going by the brief description provided, Caleb was pretty certain that he knew who Mollymauk was talking about.

“Her name is Lady Vex’ahlia de Rolo,” he replied, passing Beau’s phone back to her. Her eyebrows raised, an almost impressed expression crossing her face.

“She’s a _lady_?”

“Mm, _ja_. When I was there she was a curator of mammals, specialising in bears. I had not spoken to her very much but she seemed very lovely whenever she came to the library or archives.”

“And does she actually- like, does she actually do all the archery stuff? If she’s a lady?”

“I believe so,” Caleb said. “She certainly seems rather strong when helping put up exhibits.” He paused, and then added thoughtfully, “and her husband does seem to be rather smitten with her. He’s very fond of telling us about the awards that she’s won at different archery competitions and- Beauregard, are you alright?”

Beau had slumped in her chair suddenly, lifting a hand to cover her eyes. “Husband,” she muttered.

Caleb frowned. “ _Ja_ , that is what I said. Lord Percival de Rolo, I believe. The third, I think.”

“…the third _what_?”

“Just the third. As in, ‘third of his name’. Lord Percival de Rolo the third. I believe he donated a significant amount to the museum at some point.”

“Fuck,” Beau muttered under her breath. She breathed in slowly, exhaling out a sigh before suddenly sitting upright, leaning over the desk, and whacking Caleb on the arm. “Caleb, you fuckin’ asshole, you should’ve led with that!”

“I should have led with _what_?” Caleb asked, leaning back and absently lifting a hand to rub at where Beau had hit. It didn’t hurt – it hadn’t taken Beau long to discover that when he called himself a ‘noodle’ he really, really meant it – but the reaction was an automatic one. “The lady thing?”

“The fuckin’- the fact that she’s, y’know, fuckin’ _married_?” Beau said, sinking down further into her chair with a glower. It was a very impressive glower. Caleb got the impression that if he looked at it for too long it would singe his eyebrows. “Like, _c’mon_ , Caleb. Don’t go telling me about how she’s, like, an actual lady who likes to do archery and is also super strong and all that and then tell me that she’s _married_.” She tutted, shaking her head before lifting her phone and clicking it awake. “ _Seriously_ , man. If you’re gonna keep breaking my heart like this I don’t think we can hang out anymore.”

“Beauregard-”

“Sorry, dude, I don’t make the rules.”

“You cannot always use that as an excuse,” Caleb replied, smiling a little. Beau hummed noncommittally, starting to tap something out on her phone. Caleb frowned. “What are you doing?” he asked, leaning forward slightly over his desk. Beau leaned back, thumbs still flying over her phone.

“I’m telling Molly that you’re a dick,” she muttered. “For getting my lesbian hopes up and then crushing them by telling me that she’s _married_.”

“Yasha is also married-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that, alright? I’m not saying that didn’t _also_ crush my lesbian hopes. Jeez, Caleb. Let a gay mope in peace.” In her hands her phone buzzed, and she let out a snort of stifled laughter. “ _Hah_.” She leaned forwards, thrusting her phone in Caleb’s face. “See? Molly agrees with me.”

> **[From: purple asshole]** hey caleb im very sorry to inform you that you’re a dick for crushing my friends lesbian hopes  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** let this be a lesson to you  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** I hope to see you do better in future and to learn from your mistakes  
>  **[From: purple asshole]** how was that beau was that enough?

“See?” Beau asked again. “Dick status. It’s official. And Molly would know – I mean, don’t get me wrong, I fucking love the guy, but he is a grade-A dick. He can be a very nice dick, but he’s still a dick.”

“Uh-huh,” Caleb muttered. He opened his mouth, about to continue, and then noticed the time displaying at the top of Beau’s phone.

_12:00._

“Excuse me,” Caleb mumbled, standing abruptly from his desk. _12:00_. Gods, how hadn’t he noticed the time earlier? The moment he saw it he suddenly remembered one of the first proper conversations he’d had with Caduceus, all those weeks ago. He remembered what Caduceus had said, and what he had absently thought at the time, and what he had, in little pieces, realised was something that he could easily do for him.

Something that he could easily do for him _right now_.

He didn’t have much time, not for what he wanted to do. He didn’t have much time at all.

“Caleb?” Beau asked, frowning. She stood up quickly, reaching out for him. “Hey, hey, Caleb, buddy, are you- is this the radiators again? Is this about what Molly said? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” Caleb assured her. “I am just- I need to go. Something is on very shortly and I do not wish to miss it.”

“Oh, shit, you got a meeting or something? I haven’t been keeping you, have I?”

“No, no, this was on me. And… _ja_ , let us call it a meeting.” It was the best label for it that Caleb felt he had without explaining it, and he really didn’t have the time to get into the details. “I will be back shortly, I promise you. Go to lunch without me – I will see you and the others in the break room in not too long, alright?”

Beau’s frown didn’t move. “Alright…” she said slowly, sounding unconvinced. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay, though? You look all weird.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Caleb said, as emphatically as he could. He turned to look at her, meeting her gaze and doing his very best to look as calm and unpanicked as possible. “I am fine, Beauregard. I promise. I am just- this is something that I- look, I will not be gone for very long.”

“Hm. If you say so.” She sat back, waving him towards the door, but she still didn’t look like she entirely believed him. “Go have fun at your- your meeting thing, or whatever.”

“ _Danke_ ,” Caleb said, and with that he turned, clicked his tongue for Frumpkin to follow him, opened the door, and half-ran out of the room.

It didn’t take him long to reach where he was going, but he would have been surprised if it did. It wasn’t a long journey, and he had long since memorised the layout of the museum, meaning that he didn’t even hesitate once as he jogged down the corridors, Frumpkin bounding along at his heels. He couldn’t stop. If he stopped now, he knew, he’d talk himself out of what he was doing, would tell himself that it was a stupid idea, and a pointless idea, and then he would never do it, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to do this.

He wanted to do this for Caduceus.

He didn’t even stop to knock when he reached the mycology department, instead reaching out for the door and letting himself in the moment he arrived. The room was, thankfully, almost abandoned, with only Caduceus left sitting at his desk, working at something on his laptop with a microscope set up on the next desk over. He looked up when Caleb entered, his ears flicking with a surprise that soon showed on his face when he caught sight of Caleb.

“Caleb!” he exclaimed. “Are you- we don’t have tea today, do we? I thought we had tea tomorrow.”

“We do,” Caleb said quickly, trying to catch his breath. “We do not- this is not about-”

“What is it? Are you alright?”

“ _Ja_ , _ja_ , I am fine, I am just- you- the shipping forecast-”

“What about it?” Caduceus asked, frowning.

Caleb nodded up at the clock on the wall, pausing for just long enough to properly catch his breath before quickly crossing the room to Caduceus’ desk, speaking as he went. “It is- it will- it will be on live, soon. At 12:03. If you – sorry, I ran here – if you put it on now, you should be able to listen to it.” He stopped just before Caduceus, lifting a hand to absently brush back some of the strands that had slipped free from his ponytail during his frantic dash to the mycology department. “I know you- you told me, earlier, that you had never been able to catch it live, and so I thought- I thought that-”

He thought that _what_?

He knew that this was a tiny, insignificant thing. He knew that Caduceus was perfectly content with his recorded shipping forecast. He knew that Caduceus didn’t even mind listening to the same forecast compilation on repeat – on more than one occasion now, at one of their tea-drinking sessions, Caleb had caught Caduceus quietly mumbling the words along with the announcer. He’d smiled bashfully the first time Caleb had caught his eye while he was doing it, his ears drooping just slightly, but Caleb had been quick to tell him that he didn’t mind, that he had no issues with Caduceus speaking along with the shipping forecast if he so wanted to.

He hadn’t told Caduceus how he preferred his voice over the sound of the announcer. He hadn’t told Caduceus how Caduceus’ tiny, delighted smile had made something warm settle in his chest that hadn’t even started to dissipate until he got home that day. He hadn’t told him then, and he hadn’t told him at any other point, and it had never mattered. It had never mattered that Caduceus wanted to listen to the shipping forecast live, but had never managed to, and didn’t mind because the compilations he found online were enough.

It mattered now.

Caleb swallowed. “I thought you might like to listen to it live,” he mumbled. “I thought- I thought that might make you happy…”

For just a moment, Caduceus’ expression changed. It shifted slightly, becoming softer and impossibly gentler. “Caleb…”

“You should put it on now or we will miss the start.” He couldn’t- he couldn’t listen to Caduceus say his name like that, like it was something precious and wonderful and more beautiful than all the stars in the sky. He stepped forwards, gesturing to Caduceus’ laptop as he sat himself atop Caduceus’ desk. “I believe you should be able to find the radio channel for it online. I did some research.”

Again, the same fleeting, flickering look passed on Caduceus’ face. Caleb glanced away, brushing his hair back from his face once again as that same warm, glowing feeling started to spread through him. It was a familiar feeling now, and not at all an unpleasant one. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

He just wasn’t sure what it was.

For a long, quiet moment, Caduceus simply looked at him. “…Alright,” he said eventually. He reached out for his laptop, fingers carefully tapping across the keys as he located the website Caleb had told him about. “You said it starts at 12:03, right?”

“ _Ja_.”

“Okay. Let me just- yeah, that should do it.”

The sound of another voice started to fill the air, made quiet and tinny by the laptop’s speakers. It wasn’t the shipping forecast, not yet – and it probably said something that Caleb was, by now, able to recognise the voices of the different announcers who frequently read the forecast – but the radio host seemed to be wrapping up something. Unspeakingly, Caduceus rose from his chair. He pushed it away slightly, placing his laptop down on it before taking a seat on his desk next to Caleb, barely a handspan worth of space between them.

For a few seconds, they sat together in silence, listening to the previous radio show draw to an end.

There was a pause.

Out of the quiet hum of the mycology department, a calm, level voice began to speak.

“ _And now, the shipping forecast as issued by the Met Department, on behalf of the Greater Wildemount Maritime and Coastguard Agency, at 12:03, today. The general synopsis at 18:00. High Marker 1031 expected just west of Southern Gate 1030 by midnight tonight. Low Swavain 1011, slow moving, deepening 1009 by the same time. The area forecast for the next 24 hours. Everplume, Torrid, Bisaft: Westerly or north-westerly 5 to 7, showers, rain later, good, occasionally moderate later. Twinsward, Zoon: Westerly or north-westerly 5 or 6, showers then occasional rain, good, occasionally moderate…”_

And so it continued.

Caleb dropped one hand from his lap, resting it absently in the narrow space between them as the announcer continued to speak. He could feel Frumpkin settling down at his feet, his body brushing against his ankles until he lay down entirely, but all that he could hear was the perfectly even voice of the announcer. He couldn’t hear the background hum of the department, not beneath the shipping forecast. He couldn’t hear his own breathing, not unless he focused on it. All he could hear was the radio, speaking the ocean weather into the small, private bubble of just himself and Caduceus.

“ _Marker: West or north-west 4 or 5, occasional variable 3, fair, good. Southern Gate, Swavain, Panall...”_

Caleb still didn’t understand the shipping forecast, not really, but that was okay. Even his light research into it had only given him the basics about it, briefly detailing what the numbers meant as well as the mysterious ‘fair, good’s that he would often hear in it. He didn’t know everything, and he certainly wasn’t able to listen to the forecast and immediately understand the current ocean weather, but he knew enough to vaguely follow along with it. He could always research it more, if he really wanted to.

And, really, why _had_ he chosen to research it, even a little bit? It wasn’t as if it was something he would ever need to know. He wasn’t a sailor, and he had no intention of being one – unlike Fjord, who seemed to go sailing as much as he could during summer, according to his stories – and the whims and changes of the ocean weather didn’t affect him in any way. He didn’t need to know what the shipping forecast meant. But he didn’t listen to it out of necessity. He didn’t listen to it because he had to. He listened to it because it had, somehow, become something that he and Caduceus did occasionally, when neither of them quite felt like speaking, or when Caduceus forgot to pause his compilation video. It had only ever been a background sound for him. He’d never had to research it. There was no point in him learning what, exactly, all of it meant.

And yet he had, and he knew why.

Some part of him, for some reason, wanted to impress Caduceus.

Caleb looked down. From the corner of his eye he could see Caduceus, a vague blur of pink and grey and the rich dark blue of his sweater. Caduceus had told him that he himself didn’t really understand the shipping forecast, and that he didn’t mind leaving it at that, but all the same Caleb wanted to impress him, at least somewhat, with his knowledge. Or… no, that wasn’t exactly it. He didn’t want to _impress_ Caduceus. He didn’t want to gloat about knowing more than he did about this thing that, even now, Caleb so much considered to be Caduceus’. What he wanted, really, was to show Caduceus that he cared. He wanted to show Caduceus that he saw his strange, uncommon little enjoyment, and that he had wanted to share with him in it.

Against the back of his hand, Caleb felt the touch of something soft, and warm, and just faintly furred. He glanced up, looking over at Caduceus, but Caduceus was still looking ahead, a small, content smile playing around his lips. Caleb dropped his gaze, seeing the tips of Caduceus’ fingers just resting against the back of his hand, as though the firbolg had wanted to hold his hand but had stopped himself halfway through. He couldn’t tell if the touch was intentional or not, but he hoped it was. He really hoped it was.

He could make it intentional.

The thought emerged slowly, gradually, drifting through his mind as the shipping forecast announcer continued to speak. It wasn’t a conscious thought, not exactly – it was more of a suggestion, a feeling, an impulse to _do_ something with no real reason behind it. He didn’t need a reason to hold Caduceus’ hand. He didn’t need an excuse. He just wanted to, and, as long as Caduceus wanted to as well, that want should be reason enough.

Caleb hoped that Caduceus wanted to. He hoped that Caduceus wouldn’t mind. He couldn’t imagine that he would, though; Caduceus was one of the most casually physically affectionate people that Caleb had ever met, with Jester coming in a close second. He was still slightly cautious with Caleb, presumably still trying to figure out where his boundaries lay, but even then he seemed to have no problems with leaning into his space a little bit, or with nudging his side or touching his elbow or shoulder to get his attention. He was even more affectionate with the others, and could commonly be found being used as a pillow by Beau or Jester or, sometimes, even Yasha (and, as they all been quick to let him know, Molly too when he was around). He gave hugs as easily as breathing, ruffled Nott’s hair without a second thought, and always offered a shoulder to Jester when she wanted to mope or cry over cute dog videos. Caduceus was, by nature, an affectionate and tactile person. This should be fine.

 _This will be fine_.

Caleb took a breath, tasting the scent of tea on the back of his tongue, and then slowly, gradually, turned his hand over, and felt Caduceus’ fingers slip between his own.

 

When he glanced up this time, it was to meet Caduceus’ gaze. Caduceus’s smile widened slightly and, around his hand, Caleb felt Caduceus’ hand tighten in a brief squeeze.

 _Oh_ , he thought to himself quietly. _Oh_.

Caduceus didn’t say anything. He loosened his hand in Caleb’s a bit, almost as if giving him the space to free himself, but when Caleb made no move to pull his hand away, he looked back out into the room, his ears _swish-swishing_ once, and then twice. His hand was warm around Caleb’s, the contact light but still definitely there, and it felt…

It felt…

It felt good. It felt really, really good. It felt good, and comfortable, and entirely natural, as though this was something they’d done a hundred times before. Caduceus’ fingers slotted between Caleb’s own as if they had always been there, long and delicate and so entirely, absolutely _normal_ that Caleb didn’t have the words to describe it. It was just good. It was just nice.

Caduceus was just nice, and Caleb didn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t know how to feel about Caduceus. He hadn’t felt like this before about anyone, not to the best of his not insignificant memory. He had always been careful with people, cautious and guarded, and it was awfully rare for him to let his guard drop around anyone. Even with his therapist it had taken a long, long time for him to properly let down the walls that he had spent so long constructing. Even with Astrid, the woman he thought he was going to spend his life with, the woman he worked with and saw every day and trusted with his life right up until he hadn’t, he had spent the first few years of their acquaintance saying little more about himself than was absolutely necessary. It had been the same with Wulf, and was, even now, the same with Nott and Beau and Jester and Fjord and all of the others. Caleb was careful. He was cautious. He didn’t like to let people in, no matter how much his therapist told him that he should.

And then there was Caduceus, and every time he thought about him, Caleb felt his chest grow warm.

He hadn’t felt like this about Astrid. He’d liked Astrid, adored Astrid, loved Astrid with every fibre of his being, but it hadn’t felt like this. It had felt sharper, swifter, something hotter and darker and altogether more chaotic and exhilarating. Astrid had always been quicker than him, more prone to action for all that she was just as methodical and precise as Caleb was. Where Caleb had hung back, fear and concern clouding his actions and slowing his steps, Astrid had always forged on ahead, bright and burning in her certainty. Caleb had loved that about her. He had loved so much about her.

And what he felt for Caduceus… it wasn’t love. He was certain of that. What he felt for Caduceus was a different beast altogether, something slow and gradual and creeping. It wrapped around his limbs, ran down his arm and made him squeeze his fingers around Caduceus’ just for a second. It coiled inside his chest, pulsing soft and warm and comforting. Where Astrid was a wildfire, elegant and beautiful and dangerous and untameable, Caduceus was a hearth, slow-burning and reliable and pleasantly warm. There was never any haste to him, any rush. Despite being somewhat forgetful, he was just as methodical as Caleb, was just as methodical as Astrid, but his actions were always entirely unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and he fully intended to use it. His actions, his words… _everything_ was slow and exact and careful, and Caleb liked that. He really liked that. Caduceus could be surprising sometimes, but he was never startling. He never caught Caleb off-guard, made him jump or flinch the way Astrid had done when she caught him by surprise.

Caduceus wasn’t Astrid. That much was abundantly clear. And Caleb didn’t feel for Caduceus the same way he had, once upon a time, felt for Astrid. He still didn’t know what he felt for Caduceus.

He just knew that he felt _something_. And that, whatever he felt, he liked it. Whatever he felt, it made him want to be around Caduceus more.

Whatever he felt, it made him want to take Caduceus’ hand, and nudge their knees together, and smile and laugh and stretch up to tuck Caduceus’ hair back behind his ear whenever it slipped free from the messy bun he sometimes put it up in. It made him want to press close against his side, and take his hand on the battered couch when eating lunch with the others.

It made him want to tell Caduceus about his parents, and what had happened to them.

Around his hand, Caduceus’ hand squeezed once again, gently bringing Caleb back to the present. While lost in his thoughts, it seemed that the shipping forecast had drawn to a close; Caleb zoned back in just as the last regions were listed off, only really paying attention again as the closing lines were being said.

“ _That completes the shipping bulletin. We will be back with the general weather forecast in just a few minutes.”_

_“Thank you. This is Dwendalian Radio 4…”_

For a few long, still seconds, neither Caleb nor Caduceus spoke. The voice of the other radio presenter filled the room now, and continued to do so right up until Caduceus leaned forwards without letting go of Caleb’s hand and muted his laptop. The room didn’t return to silence, but in the absence of the soft, soothing voice of the radio announcer all the little sounds came filtering back in. Once again, Caleb heard the quiet hum of the air conditioning system and the soft sounds of Frumpkin shifting beneath the desk. Once again, he heard his own breathing. Once again, he heard all the little sounds that he had come to associate with Caduceus, and with spending time with him.

Caduceus was the first to speak.

“That was nice,” he said. Something in his voice sounded almost awed, as though he hadn’t been expecting for the live shipping forecast to be as enjoyable as it had been. “That was- yeah, that was really nice, Caleb.”

Caleb smiled, unable to stop himself. “I am glad that you thought so,” he said quietly. “I saw the time when I was in my office and thought that- I thought you might enjoy listening to it live for once. You told me a while ago that you had never managed to, and I- _ja_ , I just thought that you might enjoy it.”

“I did,” Caduceus replied. “I really did. That was really lovely. And, Caleb?”

“ _Ja_?”

“When did you do research about this? About the radio channel being online.”

Caleb looked down, giving a small shrug. Beneath his fingers, Caduceus’ hand was soft and warm and more wonderful than he had words to describe. “I- it was- _ja_ , it was after you told me when it was on live. I asked you at lunch, and so afterwards I went back to my office and did some research.”

“…Why?”

Another shrug. _I don’t know_. There was so much about this that he didn’t know. He didn’t know why he had looked into this far more than necessary, and he didn’t know why he was still holding Caduceus’ hand, and he didn’t know why all he wanted to do right now was move closer, and press against Caduceus’ side, and pull the scent of peat and tea into his lungs. “I thought it might- it could perhaps be useful one day.” _I know that you have wanted to listen to it live_. “For, ah, you know, an exhibition or something.” _I wanted to make you happy_. “I know that Fjord is planning a marine life exhibit, about sea creatures that we thought were monsters but were actually just from the deeps.” _I wanted to see you smile the way you only do when we have tea together._ “It could- it might- it could be useful for that.”

_I wanted to do something nice for you._

He didn’t say that. He _couldn’t_ say that. The words felt too sharp, too new, not yet softened by Caleb turning them over and over in his mind, analysing them from every angle. He liked Caduceus, he knew he did, and he knew that Caduceus liked him, but he couldn’t tell where on the scale of liking someone this action lay. Was this something that a friend did? A colleague? A crush, a boyfriend, a _partner_?

Caduceus gently squeezed his hand. The action was small and vanishingly brief, but some part of Caleb treasured it. All of Caleb treasured it.

“Thank you,” Caduceus said softly. He didn’t sound like he disbelieved Caleb. He just sounded like he was aware that there were words that went unspoken. “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I thought you might-”

“I know, I know, I’m really not complaining, Caleb. This was lovely.” His hand squeezed Caleb’s again. Caleb looked up, meeting Caduceus’ gaze, and Caduceus smiled at him. It made something small and bright knot in the pit of his stomach. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

 _I wanted to do something nice for you_ , Caleb thought again, and smiled back. The smile felt small, uncertain and unsure, but it was there all the same, and he knew that Caduceus would see it. Caduceus always seemed to notice his smiles. He always seemed to notice however Caleb was feeling, and Caleb appreciated that more than he knew how to put into words. “ _Ja_ , well… I am- I am glad that you enjoyed it.”

“I think I’d enjoy anything if it was done in your company, but this was particularly pleasant,” Caduceus commented, looking back out towards the room. Caleb felt the tips of his ears turning scarlet and ducked his head, his hand unconsciously tightening around Caduceus’. _Gods_. He didn’t know what this was. He didn’t know what he was feeling, and he didn’t know what to do about it but, right now, he found that he didn’t care. This was enough. This quiet, gentle time with Caduceus was enough.

He would like for there to be more of it.

Caleb swallowed, his gaze flicking between his knees and Caduceus’. There was a very, very simple solution to that want and, somehow, he didn’t feel afraid to carefully, cautiously suggest it. “If you’d- if you would like, Caduceus, the shipping forecast airs at the same time every day.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, _ja_. At 12:03.” _And 17:56. And 00:32. And 05:22_. “And it, ah, it does not last for very long, as you- as you just saw. Well, heard.” It had lasted for no longer than four minutes, in fact, from start to end, and it had simultaneously felt like hours and like not nearly long enough at all. Caleb flexed his fingers around Caduceus’ absently, running his thumb over the back of his hand. Beneath the fine layer of fur, he could feel the ridges of Caduceus’ bones.

Caduceus hummed. “Mm, yeah, I realised that. Kind of a pity, really. It would have been nice if it had lasted a bit longer.” He looked down at Caleb, his smile growing slightly. “I wouldn’t have minded listening together for a bit longer.”

“I wouldn’t have minded either,” Caleb heard himself reply. Caduceus was warm against his side, around his hand. He didn’t want to let go. “I was, um, I was thinking, actually…” He trailed off, looking away as he felt heat rise in his cheeks. This was- whatever it was, whatever he was thinking, it was ridiculous. He knew that. It was a ridiculous idea, and a ridiculous concept, but he wanted to tell Caduceus about it all the same.

Caduceus hummed again, the sound of it reverberating through Caleb’s bones. “What were you thinking?”

“It is- do not worry about it, Caduceus, it is a silly idea.”

“N’aw, it can’t be. I mean, it’s coming from you. You’re a very smart man, Mr Caleb. I can’t imagine you’d come up with many silly ideas.” Caleb peeked up at him, and the smile that Caduceus gave him made him feel warm down to his toes. “I mean it,” Caduceus added softly. “Whatever you’re thinking, I’d love to hear it.”

“Well… alright,” Caleb said, smiling slightly. He couldn’t help but smile back at Caduceus. He couldn’t help but be drawn to Caduceus. “I was thinking that, if you would like… I know that we already see each other for tea several times a week, and that we tend to have lunch with all of the others, but I was- I was considering… the shipping forecast does not take very long to listen to, and this was- I enjoyed this a lot, so I was thinking that we could, if you would like…” He trailed off, swallowing, and then continued in a quieter voice. “If you would like, and you do not have to agree to this, Caduceus, but if you would like, we could make this a habit of sorts. Perhaps.”

There was a pause. Caleb didn’t look up at Caduceus, too afraid of what he might see. For a moment, he felt Caduceus’ hand slacken around his own, and in that single, fleeting moment, his heart sank slightly. _Of course_. It was still too early, too soon, and he had known that and ignored it. He wasn’t known here yet, not really. He was a colleague more than he was a friend, and he _knew_ that, and yet he’d still chosen to present Caduceus with this ill-planned idea.

 _Stupid_ , he thought to himself, and in that moment Caduceus’ fingers tightened around his own.

“I’d like that,” Caduceus said quietly. “I’d- yeah, I’d like that a lot. That sounds nice.”

“You- _ja_?” Caleb asked.

Caduceus hummed, nodding a little. “Yeah, of course. This was really nice. I mean, I might not be able to listen every day, depending on what’s happening-”

“ _Nein, nein_ , of course not, I am not expecting you to-”

“-but I think, yeah, I think as often as possible would be nice. It’d be a nice little quiet moment before we go and join all the others.”

Caleb quirked a small smile at that. “They can be a little… loud,” he agreed. “They are all lovely, of course, but- _ja_. You know what I mean.”

“I do. I do know what you mean, Caleb.”

Caleb huffed out a short breath of laughter, feeling his smile grow. Caduceus wasn’t wrong about that. He did always seem to know what Caleb meant and what he was thinking, even better than Caleb himself did at times. “ _Ja_ ,” he murmured. “I know you do.”

“And it’ll be very nice to see you more often. I do already see you a lot, but I wouldn’t say no to more frequent meetings.”

“I hope you do not grow tired of seeing me every day,” Caleb said, and the words were only half a joke. He knew that, between his anxiety and his trauma and his _everything_ , he could sometimes be a lot to deal with. He knew that people got bored of his flinching, and his scratching, and his nervous glances and dependence on Frumpkin. He knew that people got tired of _him_.

His friends back in Rexxentrum certainly had.

He didn’t think that Caduceus would. He hoped that Caduceus wouldn’t grow tired of him.

He really, really hoped that Caduceus wouldn’t grow tired of him.

Caleb gave a short, self-deprecating chuckle, lifting a hand to brush his hair back from his face, before dropping it to scratch absently at his upper arm. “You do not need to respond to that,” he muttered quietly, digging his nails in a little further, just so that he could feel them through the fabric of his sweater. “You do not- ignore that, Caduceus-”

A hand pressed gently against his own, stopping his nails in their sharp, ceaseless motion. “Caleb,” Caduceus said softly. After the calm and quiet of the shipping forecast, his voice was almost unexpectedly serious. Caleb looked up at him, unaware that he’d even looked away, and was surprised to see that Caduceus looked almost concerned, his brow furrowed and his eyes soft and worried. Around his hand, Caduceus’ own tightened in a brief, tight squeeze. “Caleb,” he said again. “I don’t think I could ever grow tired of you. You’re a very interesting individual, you know.”

Caleb smiled, but there was no humour to it. “I am not that interesting, _Herr_ Clay.”

“Don’t be like that,” Caduceus reprimanded gently. “You’re very interesting, Caleb. You know a lot of really interesting stuff, and you’re very smart and clever, but even without that you’re interesting enough just being you. All your wonderful knowledge and smarts is just a bonus. You know what I said, back when we met, about vibes?”

“ _Ja_?”

“You’ve got some really good ones. Some really, really good ones. People like you for a reason, Caleb. _I_ like you for a reason. Whatever… let's call them _foibles_ there may be with you, well, they’re worth it. I’m definitely not going to grow tired of seeing you every day. In fact,” Caduceus added, “I think I’d rather like to see you every day. That would- yeah, that would be really nice.”

There was no uncertainty in his words, no doubt or hesitation. Caleb felt his face pinken slightly. “You are much too kind, Caduceus.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm, _ja_.”

“Well, thanks,” Caduceus replied, his ears swishing. “I like trying to be kind. You never know when someone might need it.”

Gods, didn’t Caleb know that. “You succeed,” he said quietly. “You are- you have always been very kind to me, Caduceus.”

“It’s what you deserve,” Caduceus replied easily. Caleb bit his lower lip between his teeth, unsure of how to reply to that. He knew now, after years of therapy, that he _was_ actually allowed to want and to have nice things, but all the same it made something in him bristle to hear people tell him that he deserved kindness. It never felt genuine when people said it to him, not really.

Except, it seemed, when Caduceus was the one saying it.

When Caduceus was the one saying it, part of Caleb heard his words, and heard the softness in his voice, and agreed with it.

“I need to go soon,” Caleb muttered after a pause, absently plucking at the hem of his sweater with his free hand. “I told Beauregard that I would join her and the others for lunch. Will you, ah, will you be joining us as well?”

Caduceus shook his head. “Not today, I’m afraid. I’ve got some work I really need to finish up on, and then I’ve got to meet with Mr Fjord about some things. If I can, I’ll join you all at the end of it, but I might not see you again today. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” Caleb said quickly, trying not to let his disappointment show in his voice. “It is- that is alright. You have to do your job, after all. And besides, I will- we will have the shipping forecast tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, his smile returning. “Yeah, we will. And, hey, if you get here early then we can have tea at the same time.”

“I’d like that.”

“Alright. Is there any tea in particular that you’d like, or-”

Caleb cut him off, shaking his head. “Surprise me,” he said. “I trust you.”

“I’ll do that,” Caduceus replied.

For a moment Caleb didn’t move, just watching Caduceus and enjoying the warmth of his smile, but eventually he forced himself to stand up. Much as he may want to, he couldn’t sit with Caduceus all day. He stood with a slight sigh, reluctantly letting go of Caduceus’ hand. He didn’t want to leave Caduceus, not yet. He knew that he didn’t actually have to, knew that he could just as easily return to his office, fetch his lunch, and bring it back to the mycology department, but he had told Beau that he would join her and the others in the break room, and he didn’t want to invite questions by not showing up. He clicked his tongue quietly, stirring Frumpkin from his doze under the desk, and started making his way to the door.

“Caleb?” Caduceus called, just as Caleb had opened the door. Caleb glanced back at him.

“ _Ja_?”

“Thank you, again. For this. I had a really nice time.”

Caleb smiled. “So did I,” he replied. “And I will… I will see you tomorrow, _ja_?” He just wanted to double check. He just wanted to be sure.

Caduceus smiled at him. He had a lovely smile, Caleb thought absently, all soft and sweet and gentle, like the kindness that was so inherent to him was doing its very best to make itself known to the world. “Yeah, tomorrow,” Caduceus agreed. “I’ll try and have the radio already on the right channel, but, ah, I might forget…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Caleb said. “If you do, I will be there to remind you.”

Caduceus’ smile widened. “Thanks, Caleb. I appreciate that.”

 _I appreciate this_ , Caleb wanted to say. _I appreciate you_. But he didn’t say that. He just smiled a little wider, not yet able to look away from Caduceus. “See you tomorrow, Caduceus.”

In the soft autumn sunlight, Caduceus very nearly seemed to glow. “See you tomorrow, Caleb.”

Caleb shut the door and then, when Caduceus couldn’t see, allowed his smile to stretch across his entire face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by the lovely Limeyblueart!
> 
> Also, please be aware that there will **not be a chapter next week**. I'm taking a short break from writing to stop myself from burning out, so the next chapter will be posted on **August 12th**. I hope you all understand.


	9. Chapter 9

The next time Caleb saw Caduceus for the shipping forecast, they held hands again. Caleb couldn’t really say who initiated it this time, having been so distracted with the shine of sunlight off Caduceus’ eyes that he’d only realised they were holding hands when he’d looked down a few moments later, but he found himself strangely unbothered by that fact. Who started the handholding didn’t matter. Who had first placed their hand on the desk between them wasn’t important. What mattered was that they were holding hands at all, for whatever reason.

What mattered was that Caduceus wasn’t letting go.

Caduceus didn’t let go the next day, when Caleb once again arrived at his office a few minutes before midday to listen to the shipping forecast. He didn’t let go the day after that, or the one after that, or on any days at all that week, and soon the act of taking Caduceus hand in these little quiet, shared moments became as natural to Caleb as breathing. It was simply something that he did, and something that Caduceus did: they sat down on Caduceus’ desk, Caduceus’ laptop already on the right website to listen to the shipping forecast, and then they listened, and held hands, and drank tea or chatted or went to join the others for lunch later. More than once, Caleb had found himself arriving late to lunch with the others, having got caught up with talking to Caduceus.

More than once, Caleb had arrived at the break room with Caduceus beside him to find that Caduceus’ hand was still clasped in his own.

He didn’t know if any of the others had spotted it. He didn’t think they had – the few times that it had happened he’d remembered to let go of Caduceus’ hand before walking into the room. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of holding Caduceus’ hand – far from it, in fact – but he didn’t want to invite any more questions. He already knew what Jester and Nott thought about his feelings towards Caduceus. He already knew how they would blow this small, _friendly_ touch entirely out of proportion and context.

So he released Caduceus’ hand, and acted like nothing happened, and tried to ignore the drop in his stomach whenever he saw Caduceus’ ears give a small, sad twitch as a result.

He’d tried to ignore a lot of his feelings for Caduceus over the last few weeks, and had failed. He still wasn’t sure entirely what it was that he was feeling, but whatever it was it made him feel warm and content and excited by turns, unable to drag himself away from Caduceus’ side. It reminded him of how it had felt to be around Astrid, in a way, but it was undeniably different. It was something strange, and new, and not at all unpleasant, but all the same Caleb didn’t know how to deal with it, and so, for now, he opted to ignore it. He could figure out what he was feeling later. He could figure out how to handle it later. For now, it was more than enough to spend time with Caduceus. For now, it was more than enough to have his friendship. He didn’t need to think about things too deeply. He just had to enjoy what he had with Caduceus, and be content with it.

But, despite all of that rationalising, he still couldn’t stop mulling over his feelings.

“Nott?” Caleb asked one day as the work hours drew to a close, thoughts of Caduceus still bouncing around his mind. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, not since their shared tea time yesterday when Caduceus had noticed that Caleb had forgotten his cardigan in his office and had, without hesitating, offered him his shawl to keep warm. Caleb had accepted unthinkingly, but even now he could remember the feeling of soft, time-worn yarn draped over his shoulders, keeping him warm and filling his lungs with the scent of tea and peat and Caduceus. Even now, he could remember the flare of delight and warmth that had burst inside his chest when Caduceus had, unconsciously, reached out for his hand on the desk between them.

Even now, he could remember the strange, almost soft look that Nott had given him when he’d joined her in the break room for lunch.

It wasn’t the look she was giving him now. The one she was giving him now was a curious one, her brow furrowed behind her computer screen. “Yeah?”

Caleb didn’t think before speaking. His mind was still too full of Caduceus to consider things like if this was an alright question to ask a coworker. He thought it was. He hoped that it was. “How did you- with Yeza, how did you- how did you become aware that… that you…” He trailed off, waving a hand vaguely. Nott frowned at him, tilting her head to one side slightly.

“That I what?” she asked.

Caleb shrugged, feeling his ears starting to redden. He didn’t know why this was so hard to say. He was just asking a question, that was all. It wasn’t even a particularly prying question, or a particularly unpleasant one – if anything it was a _nice_ question to ask, really. It was a nice question about Nott’s husband, and about Nott’s happiness, and none of it affected Caleb in any way. None of it applied to him. It had, possibly, in the past, but right now it had nothing to do with him whatsoever. He was just curious, for no particular reason.

“How did you… when did you first realise that you liked him?” he blurted out suddenly, the words escaping him in a tumbled blur. “As in, romantically. How did you know?”

For a moment, Nott’s eyes widened, as if she wasn’t quite expecting the question, but the expression soon cleared from her face. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, resting her hands in her lap. “I didn’t know right away, you know. I don’t think anyone does. But I liked Yeza right from when I first met him – he was very sweet and very clever and very, _very_ handsome, though he did have these terrible big sideburns, but we just sort of… clicked. He was nice, and he didn’t tease me how a lot of other halflings in Felderwin did, which definitely helped, but mostly he was just… nice. And we slowly grew closer, as young couples do.” A fond smile crossed her face; without thinking she raised her hand, resting her wedding ring against her lower lip just for a moment. “He was really _very_ lovely. And he was so smart, you know. He was always tinkering with things. He still does, actually; sometimes, when I get home, I have to drag him and Luc out of the garage to make sure that they actually remember to have dinner, but he sometimes collects me from work to do the same, so I think we’re even on that front.”

Caleb smiled, leaning forwards a little bit. He couldn’t help it. Nott’s quiet, contented happiness felt almost as if it was extending all the way out to him, making him feel warm and settled the way he only really did around Caduceus these days. It made him feel calm, hearing all of Nott’s fondness for her husband and family. “ _Ja_? So you liked him from the very start?”

“Oh, of course I did,” she replied. “Not all couples are like that, though, and we had our teething troubles, as all couples do – we had a few little squabbles before we really started dating, you know – but one day I just looked at him and thought, ‘you know what? I think I’d like to kiss him.’ And it turned out that he was looking at me and thinking the same thing, but I only found that out when I asked him on an actual date.”

“Did you spend a lot of time together before that?”

“I’d say so. We didn’t see each other every day, of course, and we hung out with our mutual friends together a lot too, but we saw each other a few times a week, I’d say. Yeza likes his technology but he’s never been one for texting – he prefers taking phones apart to actually using them – so we mostly spoke in-person.” Her smile grew, seeming to illuminate her whole face.  “One time, when he was away visiting his family and I was home looking after Luc, he wrote me a letter because he didn’t want to just call me. I mean, he called me too, of course, to say hi to Luc and let me know how things were going, but he _also_ sent me a letter. It was very sweet of him.”

Caleb felt his smile widen. He hoped, one day, that he would be with someone who cared enough to write him letters. “It sounds very sweet of him,” he agreed quietly. “Did that sort of thing happen often, or…?”

Nott laughed. “Pfft, no, not at all! Yeza’s handwriting is _terrible_ , practically illegible – it’s the typical engineers handwriting, you know-”

“Oh, _ja, ja_ , I know. Wulf- a friend back in Rexentrum had terrible scientist handwriting.”

“Exactly! But, no, he only writes letters occasionally. But sometimes he sends me one from home just because he can, and sometimes _I_ send him messages from home just because _I_ can. It’s a bit pointless, but it’s still very nice. It’s like a little, tangible reminder of how much he loves me, and of how much I love him.” Nott narrowed her eyes for a second, glaring mock-threateningly at Caleb. At least, Caleb thought it was mock-threateningly. With Nott, he could never quite be sure. “And if you _ever_ tell Beau or Jester that I’m being all- all mushy, or whatever, then I’ll- I’ll- I’ll do something _really terrible_.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “ _Ja_? Like what?”

“I’ll change your keyboard layout back to DVORAK.”

“ _Nott_!”

“I will” Nott said, but she was grinning, and after a few seconds of laughter they both lapsed into a quiet, contemplative silence. Caleb was still smiling to himself, his chin on his hand as he watched Nott’s gaze shift to land on the photo on her desk of herself and her family. He really did like hearing Nott talk about her husband and son. It was sweet, hearing all these little stories of love and affection, and of the warmth and adoration that so thoroughly infused her life. He hoped that he would get to experience that one day. He’d thought that he might, perhaps, experience it with Astrid, but then…

Well... But then he hadn’t, and he had no one to blame for that but himself. He’d loved her, and thought that she had loved him, and maybe she had, but that wasn’t how things had continued. He hadn’t had the soft, sweet love that Nott was describing with Astrid, not exactly. And he knew that that was to be expected, and that relationships varied massively, but he felt that he would have liked a bit more softness. He felt that he would have liked a bit more sweetness in his life from time to time.

“Nott?” Caleb asked, after a few more moments.

Nott looked up from the photo. “Yeah?”

“How did you- how did you know that you loved him? That you loved Yeza?”

Nott gave him a look. “Why are you asking?” There was no bite to her voice, no indication that the question was an unwanted one, but there was a definite sense of curiosity to her tone.

Caleb shrugged, looking down at his shoes for a moment. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I was just- I was just curious how people’s experiences matched up to my own, I suppose. And you clearly have experience with this, so I figured that I would ask you.”

“You could have asked Yasha about her wife.”

Another shrug. “Mm, _ja_ , maybe so, but I know you better, and besides, you are right here. I never know where Yasha is.”

Nott smiled at that. “That’s a good point,” she admitted. “Yasha does do her own thing, mostly. But, talking less about Yasha and talking more about _you_ , are these new experiences you’re looking to compare them to or…?” She trailed off, leaving the question hanging. It was, from Nott, a surprisingly delicate and careful way of phrasing it that Caleb hadn’t expected. He’d known to expect _some_ sort of question from Nott, but he’d been expecting it more along the lines of Jester’s preferred method of interrogation, which seemed to consist of asking him half a hundred questions at once and hoping that one of them stuck. He hadn’t been expecting this. He hadn’t been expecting the care in her voice.

“…They are from a while ago,” he answered eventually, his voice cautious. “From… from my previous museum. I do not- I have not been in a relationship since then. And,” he added quickly, seeing this shift in Nott’s expression. “I am not looking to be! I know that- I know that you and Jester have your ideas about myself and Cadu- about me, but I really am not looking for anything right now, Nott. I am just curious how your experiences compare to my past ones. That is all.”

Nott narrowed her eyes. “Alright…” she said, just a tiny bit suspiciously. “If you say so…”

“I _do_ say so, Nott. I am not interested in anyone right now. Now, please tell me more about Yeza.”

As Caleb had hoped, the mention of Yeza seemed to be enough to sway Nott from asking any further questions. Her face lit up again, breaking into a wide smile as she sat up straighter in her chair. “Well,” she said, as if trying to seem disinterested, “I _suppose_ I can tell you more about my very marvellous husband. You were wondering how I knew that I loved him, right?”

“Mhmm, _ja_.”

“Okay, well… it might disappoint you a little bit. It’s not very romantic.”

Caleb smiled. “I am not Jester, Nott. I am aware that a lot of romance is not, ah, as romantic as romance books like for us to believe.”

“Very good point, well made. I’ll try to remember that you’re not Jester more often in the future.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Anyway: Yeza!” Nott grinned, giving a little wiggle before leaning in towards Caleb. “Well,” she continued, “if I’m honest, it took me quite a while to realise that I actually loved Yeza, you know. It didn’t take me forever, obviously, but it sort of… well, it sort of snuck up on me, actually. I guess I was expecting something closer to how books and movies and all that had always described it, even though I’d been in relationships before, but of course it wasn’t anything like any of those. It was much… simpler, in a way.”

“Quieter,” Caleb suggested, and Nott smiled slightly.

“Yeah,” she agreed, giving a small nod as a far-off look entered her eyes. “Quieter. I just sort of looked at him one day, when he was doing his tinkering and playing with wires and getting all excited about these circuit components that he’d managed to pull out from an old microwave or something, and he had a little bit of grease smudged on his cheek and his hair was a bit wild and scruffy, and I just thought ‘…oh.’” She looked back at Caleb, her normally cheerful face uncharacteristically serious. “Does that make sense? It wasn’t a big thing. I just realised that I’d loved him for a while, and that was it.”

Caleb nodded, drumming his fingers against his desk. “It- _ja_ , I think that makes sense. That is different to my experience, but- mm, _ja_ , I think I can imagine what you mean.” It hadn’t been like that for him. It had been similar, admittedly, but also undeniably different. Loving Astrid was not like loving Yeza. Astrid was too wild, too fiery, too _Astrid_ for things to be gradual and easily understood.

“Why?” Nott asked, interrupting Caleb’s train of thought. “What was it like for you and…?” She trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

Caleb swallowed. “…Astrid,” he said quietly, after a pause. He looked down, plucking at the cuffs of his sweater and tugging on threads made loose from years of previous fidgeting. “Her- her name was Astrid.”

“It’s a pretty name.”

“ _Ja_ , well, she was a pretty woman. Well, handsome, actually. That would be a more apt way of describing her.” Handsome, and sharp, and as bright as the sun. “She was, ah… she focused more on human history, you know. Had a keen eye for putting together exhibits and piecing together little bits of the past. She was not… she was much braver than me, you know. She was good at getting me out of my comfort zone.”

“You must have liked her a lot,” Nott said softly. Caleb nodded again.

“ _Ja_ ,” he murmured, not looking up from his hands. He twisted them together, watching the play of sunlight over his knuckles, and remembered how that same sunlight had looked painted across soft grey fur touched in places with pink. “I- I did like her a lot. I loved her, actually. I think.”

“Oh?”

“Mm.” He didn’t say any more beyond that. He didn’t know what else he _could_ say beyond that. Astrid was… she was important to him, undeniably. She had been important to him for a long, long time, and one event, no matter how catastrophic, did little to mitigate the pathways that his mind had so firmly settled into.

Nott seemed to pick up on his hesitation to say more. Her face shifted a little, becoming faintly sad and almost concerned. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet.

Caleb shrugged, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “It’s alright,” he replied. “It was- it was a while ago.” Not a long while. Not yet. “I am just- ah, I am just being maudlin. It is very nice hearing about you and your husband, though.” He looked up at her, trying to muster a faint smile. “It makes me hope that one day I may find something like that too.”

“You will,” Nott said softly. She scooted her chair around her desk, reaching out for Caleb and, unthinkingly, Caleb reached back for her. Her hand was small in her own, not quite as warm as Caduceus’, but she squeezed his hand tightly all the same, as though enough pressure around his palm would somehow be enough to undo what Astrid had unwillingly done. “One day, when you least expect it, you’ll find it.”

Caleb smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I hope that I do.”

\---

“Say, Caleb,” Caduceus said out of the blue one day, in the quiet, contemplative moments that always followed the shipping forecast. They had been doing this more frequently, enjoying these short conversations that now so often seemed to follow the forecast. They tended to make them both run a bit late for joining the others for lunch, but Caleb had never heard Caduceus complain about it, and he certainly wasn’t going to. He liked talking to Caduceus. Talking to Caduceus, he felt, was almost worth the looks that Beau and Jester liked to give him when he arrived late to lunch.

Caleb made a small sound, not looking over at where Caduceus sat with Frumpkin curled up and comfortable on his lap. “Mm?”

“You, ah, you know how tomorrow I’m going to be leaving for Felderwin for a couple of days?”

Caleb nodded, humming quietly. Caduceus had told him about that at the very start of the week, letting Caleb know during one of their tea sessions together. He wasn’t going to be gone for much longer than a week or two it seemed – he’d been almost frustratingly vague about the actual length of time involved – but Caleb would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel sad about Caduceus’ upcoming departure. He liked Caduceus. He liked him a lot. He liked the deepness of his voice, and the softness of his eyes, and the flat plane of his nose and the colour of his hair and the delicate bones of his hands when they clasped around his mug or, as was becoming increasingly common these days, around Caleb’s own hand. He liked being with Caduceus, and spending time with him. He didn’t want that to stop, not even for a little while.

But he couldn’t tell Caduceus that. That would be weird, or creepy, or generally bizarre and unpleasant, and so he bit his tongue and only smiled and nodded whenever Caduceus mentioned his short trip.

Just as he was doing now.

“Mhmm, _ja_?” Caleb asked, doing his best not to look at Caduceus as, around his fingers, Caduceus’ hand gave a brief, gentle squeeze. Caleb had noticed him doing that a lot – it was an action he did seemingly without rhyme or reason, rarely giving any indication that he was even aware that he was doing it. It was nice, though. Caleb didn’t want it to stop.

“Well,” Caduceus continued, “while I’m in Felderwin we won’t be able to talk quite as much.”

“I am aware of that, Caduceus.”

“Yeah, well, I know you are, you’re not exactly prone to forgetting things, but I just wanted to… yeah, I wanted to bring it to your attention, as it were.”

Caleb frowned, looking at up at Caduceus. “Why?” He was well aware that, once Caduceus left, he would be unable to contact him except by email until he returned. Admittedly, that was better than nothing, but Caleb had found over the course of his life that he really hated sending emails outside of a formal setting. He didn’t want to be formal with Caduceus. He wanted things to be calm, and relaxed, and _easy_ with Caduceus, just as they always were.

Caduceus shrugged. His shoulders were too high to rub against Caleb’s but Caleb felt the motion of it through their joined hands anyway. “Well,” Caduceus continued, “this has – this has been really nice so far, Caleb. All of this. The shipping forecast, and the tea, and the conversation afterwards. And I know that tea isn’t exactly something that we can share digitally at the current moment, but we might still be able to talk, if you’d like. I know I won’t be able to see you while I’m away, but I like talking to you, so I figured that, if it was alright with you, we could trade phone numbers. I don’t use mine all that much-”

“I don’t think I have ever even _seen_ your phone,” Caleb muttered, but he was smiling slightly. He liked the sound of Caduceus’ suggestion more than he wanted to admit.

Caduceus shrugged again. “Well, it’s around here somewhere,” he said calmly, but Caleb could hear the faint amusement in his voice. “I’m sure of it. I’ll be making sure to bring it with me, though, in case Mr Fjord needs to get in touch with me unexpectedly, or there’s an emergency here at the museum, or if I need to contact you, or if something else important happens.”

Caleb’s smile grew slightly. “I am not sure that talking to me is a particularly important event, Caduceus.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Mm, _nein_ , not really.”

“Huh,” Caduceus said softly. Caleb looked up, watching as Caduceus’ ears twitched down for a moment, his face creasing into a gentle frown as he thought over Caleb’s words. “Well,” he said after a pause, “I’m not sure I agree with that. I know that it’s definitely very important to me. I like talking to you a lot, Caleb. I wouldn’t want to miss out on that just because I’m in a different city.”

“I like talking to you, too,” Caleb said before he could stop himself. Unbidden, he felt his gaze being drawn to their joined hands, watching how the fluorescent lights bleached the colour from his skin and tried to sap the colour from the pink fur that dusted the back of Caduceus’ hand. The light would never be able to dull the colour, though. Caduceus was too bright and warm for that. "It is... _ja_. I like talking to you a lot too, Caduceus. I would- I would like that. Um. What you are suggesting.”

Caleb didn’t see it, but he knew that Caduceus’ ears were swishing. “Yeah?”

“ _Ja_.”

“Oh, that’s just great. I would take your number but I don’t know where my phone is, but if you-”

“ _Ja, ja_ , let me just…” Caleb trailed off, quickly fishing his phone out of his pocket before silently holding it out to Caduceus. Caduceus took it, his fingers brushing gently against Caleb’s for a single, fleeting moment. He made quick work of entering his phone number, pausing and smiling to himself before editing something and then handing the phone back to Caleb.

Caleb took it, looking down at the screen.

> **_NAME:_ ** _Caduceus Clay :)_

Caleb smiled. “I see you have been changing your contact details, _Herr_ Clay,” he said, his tone lightly teasing. Caduceus gave a short laugh.

“Ah, yeah, well… I don’t know, it just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Mm. I like it.”

“You do?”

“Oh, _ja_. It matches you.” He held his phone up beside Caduceus’ face, turning it on its side so that the smiley was at the same orientation as Caduceus’ own soft grin. “Mhmm, _ja_ , just as I thought. A perfect match.”

Caduceus laughed again. The sound was soft, quiet and intimate and just for the two of them, and it made Caleb feel warm and content and like sunlight was sinking into his skin. “A perfect match, really?”

Caleb hummed, pretending to think. “Well, you know… now that you mention it, perhaps not a _perfect_ match. I do not think you are quite as handsome as this emoticon here, for example, but it is a very close competition. And your smile, though lovely, is not quite as pleasant. You have some catching up to do, _Herr_ Clay.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much for letting me know, Mr Caleb. I’ll be sure to get right on that. I don’t know what I’d do if an emoticon was more handsome than me.”

“I’m not sure the catching up is entirely necessary,” Caleb said. He lowered his hand, smiling down at his phone for a moment. The emoticon smiled back. “Besides,” he continued, his voice growing a little bit absent, “you are very handsome already. I am not sure what _I_ would do if you became much more attractive.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Caleb continued to look at his phone, feeling his emotions gently bouncing back and forth between the delight and amusement and the absolute sense of peace that always came from spending time with Caduceus, and the sense of upset and loss that he felt at the knowledge of Caduceus’ imminent departure. He knew it was a ridiculous thing to feel, knew that Caduceus wouldn’t be away for very long at all and that they were little more than colleagues, but he liked to think of Caduceus as his friend. He didn’t have many of those. He’d never had many in Rexxentrum outside of Astrid and Wulf, and he was still unsure of how close he really was to his other colleagues in Zadash. Aside from Beau, and possibly Nott, Caduceus was about the only one that Caleb truly felt he could call his friend with very little fear of if the feeling was mutual or not.

And, very soon, Caduceus would be leaving.

Caleb frowned down at the phone in his hands. The screen blinked off, taking the little smiley emoticon with it. He didn’t want Caduceus to leave. It wasn’t a new revelation to him – he’d realised as much soon after Caduceus had informed him of his upcoming trip – but he felt that feeling more strongly than ever now, for no good reason that he could pin down. He just- he wasn’t- he _didn’t want Caduceus to leave_ , not now. Not for so long. He wanted Caduceus to stay here, in the museum, and he wanted to keep joining him for tea, and for their daily listens to the shipping forecast, and their now occasional excursions out into Caduceus’ little garden on the days when Caleb’s anxiety decided to spike and suddenly the soft background hum of the museum just became too much for him. He didn’t want to stop seeing Frumpkin curled up and purring in Caduceus’ lap. He didn’t want to stop hearing Caduceus politely, calmly, ask permission to pet Frumpkin, every single time Frumpkin sat in his lap, with the full awareness that Caleb’s exact degree of dependence on Frumpkin varied from day to day.

He didn’t want to stop feeling the warmth of Caduceus’ hand around his own.

“Caleb?”

Caleb looked up, meeting Caduceus’ gaze. For a moment Caduceus looked almost a little uncertain, a slight frown marring his features, but the moment Caleb met his eyes the expression cleared from his face, being wiped away by a smile that Caleb thought he could almost call fond. “ _Ja_?” Caleb asked.

Caduceus inhaled for a moment, giving the impression that he was about to say something, and then he shut his mouth and shook his head. The action made Caduceus’ ears flap, shaking a few soft pink strands free from the updo that he’d done his hair in, and just for a second Caleb was overcome by the urge to reach out, and tuck them back behind Caduceus’ ears, and feel just how soft that fur really was. “Nothing,” Caduceus said softly. “I was just- ah, yeah, it’s nothing.”

Caleb frowned. “Are you sure? You looked like you were going to say something.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. You were just… nah. It’s not important.”

“I was just _what_?” Caleb leaned in a little, shifting forwards slightly across the desk. “Please, do not say that and then not continue it. What did I do?” He could already feel the anxiety brewing in his gut with the sudden concern that he had, unknowingly, done something wrong.

And it seemed that Caduceus noticed that, because he very quickly replied. “Ah, right, yeah, sorry about that,” he said, his tone nothing but apologetic. “I didn’t mean to – yeah, I didn’t mean to cause you any anxiety. It was just… well, I feel a bit ridiculous saying this now, but… just a moment ago, when you were frowning at your phone?” He lifted a hand, waving it vaguely at Caleb’s forehead. “You got a little wrinkle sorta thing, right between your eyebrows. Like a little dimple. It was kinda cute, that was all.”

“…Oh.” _Oh_. That was- he had- how was he supposed to react to that? Caleb frowned, feeling the tips of his ears turning red as he turned Caduceus’ words over in his mind. They were… well, they were definitely _nice_ , but everything Caduceus said was nice, and Caduceus had said it the exact same way he spoke about everything else, from his work to the weather to what Jester had been up to over the weekend. It wasn’t _flirty_. It was just Caduceus, and Caleb was fine with that. He wasn’t looking for anything. He wasn’t hoping for anything. He liked Caduceus as a friend, and nothing more.

So why, for a moment, did he wish that Caduceus’ words _were_ meant to be flirtatious?

He didn’t have time to dwell on that, though, for no sooner had he started to feel that strange, unexpected wish for Caduceus to make some indication of interest than Caduceus shifted, lifting his free hand to start petting Frumpkin.

“You’re very cute too,” he said to the cat, giving a quiet laugh when Frumpkin lifted his head from his paws to press up into Caduceus’ palm. Normally, were they in any other room but the mycology department, Caduceus would have looked over at Caleb to check for permission first, but they had discussed this. Caleb knew that this room was safe. He knew that, even on Caduceus’ lap, Frumpkin was still working. He knew that if anything caught Frumpkin’s attention, Caduceus would in no way hinder him if he needed to jump down, and Caduceus had already asked Caleb for permission when Caleb had first joined him a few minutes ago. Caduceus was permitted. Caduceus was good.

Caduceus was leaving tomorrow.

“Caduceus?” Caleb asked quietly. Caduceus hummed softly, the sound echoing through Caleb’s very bones. He liked that feeling. He _loved_ that feeling, actually – he loved how calm and content and _settled_ he felt when around Caduceus, loved how he could feel Caduceus’ laughter just as much as he could hear it, loved how Caduceus’ ears swished when he was happy, and loved how gentle and careful Caduceus always was. He loved spending time with Caduceus, no matter what they were doing.

He didn’t want Caduceus to go.

But that was a greedy, selfish, pointless thought to have. He wasn’t Caduceus’, and Caduceus wasn’t his – they were only friends, after all, and Caleb was content with that. He wasn’t looking for anything more, not right now. He had no say in where Caduceus should go and what he should do, and he would never want to. But, all the same, he wished that Caduceus didn’t have to leave for as long as he did.

Next to him, Caduceus spoke, his voice as soft and gentle as ever. “Yeah?”

Caleb swallowed. He wasn’t crying, because this would be a stupid thing to cry about, but he could feel his throat tightening slightly, could feel something akin to loss already starting to suffuse throughout his body. “I-” he started, only to cut himself off immediately. He couldn’t- he _shouldn’t_ say this. It was ridiculous. It didn’t make any sense. Caduceus hadn’t even left yet. He was still here, right by Caleb’s side, and yet all the same Caleb was already starting to feel the same faint sting in his chest that he used to get whenever Astrid went on work trips to other museums. “I,” he tried again. “I will- while you are gone, I will miss you a lot.”

What an understatement that was. What a terrible, simple phrase for something which wasn’t really simple at all. Up until this moment, Caleb hadn’t truly realised the full extent of how deeply Caduceus had settled into his life, but he was realising it now. With Caduceus in Felderwin, there would be no more live listens of the shipping forecast. With Caduceus in Felderwin, there would be no new, interesting tea blends to try, now scattered more rarely throughout the blends that Caduceus knew that Caleb liked. There would be no in-person visit to collect or deliver books, and there would be no listening to Caduceus telling tales about his family, and there would be no walks to visit the raven in the flower garden when Caleb felt the museum becoming too small and too tight and too close for comfort.

There would be no more Caduceus, and Caleb hated that thought.

Through the fugue of his pre-emptive longing, Caleb felt Caduceus give his hand a gentle squeeze. Their knees knocked together, Caleb’s shoulder bumping into Caduceus’s side for a moment as Caduceus gently shifted himself to nudge against Caleb. Caleb couldn’t feel the warmth of Caduceus’ body, not through the fabric of his sweater, but he could imagine it. He could imagine how it would feel against his skin, beneath his hands. He squeezed Caduceus’ hand back, just for a moment. This contact, at least, he knew was okay to have.

“Hey,” Caduceus said quietly. Caleb looked up, meeting Caduceus’ gaze. His eyes, even beneath the washed-out white light of the fluorescent lights overhead, were as stunning and as warm as ever, soft pink and rose and blush all mixed together into something beautiful and unique. Caduceus squeezed his hand again, his fur soft against Caleb’s skin. “It’s alright, Caleb. I’m going to miss you a lot too, you know.”

Caleb smiled, just a tiny bit. It felt insufficient, but it was all he could muster. “ _Ja_?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course I’m going to miss you. You’re a very special individual, you know. You mean a lot to me.”

Caleb felt his smile widen. There was no trace of deceit in Caduceus’ voice, no indication of a lie or of any form of untruth. There never had been. Caduceus could be cagey with his words sometimes, could be vague almost to the point of being frustrating, but he never lied. He was never dishonest, and Caleb appreciated that more than he knew how to say. “Thank you,” he replied. “I am- I am glad of that. You mean a lot to me too, Caduceus.”

“And, hey, I’m sure that if you really wanted, Mr Fjord wouldn’t mind joining you for the shipping forecast once in a while. I think I mentioned that he actually sails. It might be something that he’s interested in.”

Caleb gave his head a small shake. “Somehow,” he said, just about keeping a faint waver out of his voice, “I do not think it will be the same without you. Fjord is, ah… he is not quite as comforting as you are, you know.”

“… Miss Beauregard?”

Caleb snorted at that suggestion. “Beauregard is- well, she actually can be comforting, incredibly, but she strikes me as being even less prone to listening to the shipping forecast with me than Fjord is.” He shook his head. “No, I think I will just- I will just wait for you to, ah, return…” And, Gods, but it sounded so bad saying it like that. Caleb frowned down at his hands, only looking up when Caduceus nudged against his side again.

“Hey,” Caduceus said quietly. “I’ll be back before you know it, alright? And you have my number now, so you can text me whenever you need to. I mean,” he continued, lifting a hand to scratch at his undercut, “I can’t promise I’ll be able to get back to you very quickly, but I’ll try my best to remember to check my phone at least once a day.”

Caleb smiled, glancing away. “I appreciate that, but you- you do not- you do not need to change your habits just for my sake, Caduceus. I am aware of how, ah, hectic research visits can be. If you are busy, I will understand. I do not wish to be a distraction to you-”

“No, no, you wouldn’t be,” Caduceus interrupted. He didn’t squeeze Caleb’s hand again but Caleb felt his thumb brushing over his knuckles, running over the ridges and bumps as though counting them out. It was a soft touch, light and gentle; Caleb almost wanted to call it tender. He almost wanted to call Caduceus tender. “Really, Caleb, I mean it. I mean, if I hadn’t wanted you to contact me then I wouldn’t have given you my phone number. Giving you the means to contact me and then getting annoyed when you do just doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“Ah, _ja_ , I suppose you are correct there,” Caleb admitted, but he could still feel concern curdling in his stomach. He could still remember Rexxentrum, where things that he thought were fine and accepted had turned out to be unknowingly annoying. “But if I- if I ever do become an annoyance, do let me know.”

“ _Caleb_ ,” Caduceus said. His tone was firmer now, more sure and definite. Caleb looked up at him, unable to stop himself, and the moment their eyes met, Caduceus smiled. “Caleb,” he said again. “You can text me or call me whenever you want to, and I’ll reply or answer when I can, or when I remember to. That’s it. That’s sort of the reason people have phones, you know. You won’t be a nuisance. I can promise you that.”

“…No?”

“Nah, not at all. I’d rather like to hear from you, actually. I like talking to you a lot. I’ll miss our daily get-togethers.”

Caleb smiled. “I’ll miss them too,” he said, his voice soft.

“… And, Caleb?”

“ _Ja_?”

“The shipping forecast is on at other times as well, right?”

Caleb nodded.  “ _Ja_ , it is. Shortly after half past midnight, twenty-two minutes past five in the morning, our midday one, and just before six pm. Why do you ask?”

Caduceus frowned, his ears twitching as he mulled over something. Caleb wanted to lean closer, wanted to press right up against Caduceus’ side and feel the soft flicker and swish of his ears against his skin, but he didn’t. He didn’t know why he wanted to do that. He didn’t know why, even now, with Caduceus’ hand warm around his own, he still wanted to be closer.

Eventually, Caduceus spoke. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I don’t know what my days are going to look like in Felderwin, but I might have the odd evening free. I obviously don’t know what your calendar looks like, and I wouldn’t want to presume anything of you, Caleb, but if you’d like, and are able to, we could perhaps…” He trailed off, nodding towards his laptop. It wasn’t playing the shipping forecast anymore but the webpage for it was still open, casting soft light over the keyboard. “Well. You know the website, and what time it’s on, and I know that speaking over the phone isn’t the same as speaking face to face, but-”

“Yes,” Caleb interrupted. “ _Ich- ja_ , yes, _bitte_ , that would be- I would like that a lot, Caduceus.” Gods, did he want to do that. There was no way that listening to Caduceus over the phone could in any way be a substitute for this sweet, soft closeness that they had somehow curated together, and there was no way that what Caduceus was proposing could even come close to the absolute comfort that existed here in the mycology department, but it would be better than nothing. It would be so, so much better than nothing. “I do not- I will need to find out when I will have free evenings, but if you- if you want to- I would like that a lot,” he finished lamely. “I really would.”

Caduceus smiled at him. It was a sweet smile, small and soft and just a little bit hopeful, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of Caleb’s answer. “Yeah? You would?”

“Mhmm, _ja_ , absolutely,” Caleb replied. He squeezed Caduceus’ hand, just once. “I would really like that, Caduceus.”

“Oh, I’m glad. That’d be- yeah, I think that’d be really nice. We’ll need to organise that, maybe text a bit to make sure that everything lines up and works out properly.” Caduceus paused, and then added, “And, Caleb?”

Caleb hummed. “Mm?”

“Text me, or call me, whenever you want, alright?” Caduceus turned his head, catching Caleb’s eye. His gaze was unexpectedly serious, but the warmth that always embraced his words was still there, softening them and turning them calm and gentle. “Not just for work, or to try and organise listening to the shipping forecast, but _whenever_ you want. You won’t be a bother. You’ll never be a bother, alright?”

_Gods_. Gods above, but how was Caleb so very, very lucky to know Caduceus at all? How was he so lucky to not just know Caduceus, but to be his friend as well, to be able to sit by his side, and hold his hand, and listening to him say that Caleb will never be a bother, and not immediately feel himself rush to deny it? Even now, it was still something that he was working on with his therapist. His friends at Rexxentrum had helped for a while, but then that help had shattered into nothing and turned out to have never existed in the first place, and what progress he thought he’d made had immediately disintegrated. He _was_ a bother. His anxiety was a bother, and his service cat was a bother, and his nervous habits and reliance on Frumpkin and terrible people skills and _everything_ was a bother. He was a bother. He was a nuisance.

But Caduceus didn’t think so. Caduceus had never thought so.

And Caleb had never, ever, had cause to disbelieve him.

“…Alright,” Caleb said after a moment. “I will- I will try to text you.”

Caduceus’ smile was so bright that Caleb felt it could have illuminated the room. “Good,” he said softly. “That’s all I needed to hear. You’re not a bother, Caleb. Make sure to remember that, okay?”

“Okay,” Caleb said quietly, and, for a moment, he believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on **August 19th!**


	10. Chapter 10

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Hello, this is Caleb Widogast. I just wanted to ensure that you had my number, and that I did not have the wrong one.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay:)]** If this is the wrong number, please let me know.

Caleb chewed his lip as he looked down at his phone, watching the loading circle as his messages sent. Why he hadn’t chosen to do this yesterday in Caduceus’ office he didn’t know, but he supposed that it was better that he was doing it now, on the morning of Caduceus’ leaving day, than not at all. It had taken him a good hour from waking up for him to build up the courage to send the messages but that, for him, was good. For him, that was brave.

Part of him wondered if it was an indication of how much he wanted to talk to Caduceus. He had never really been good with texting, though he was better at texting than he was at phone calls, but even in Rexxentrum, the only people he texted semi-regularly were Wulf and Astrid. He didn’t like to be the person to text first. It felt… presumptuous, almost, as if he were expecting something of them. As if he were expecting their friendship and time. Even when he knew he had it, it was still a struggle to pick up his phone, and compose the text, and send it.

It was even more of a struggle when he didn’t know if he had the right number to begin with.

Caleb resolutely didn’t look at his phone as he left his house, scooping Frumpkin up onto his shoulders for the short walk to the bus stop. It was a chilly, icy day, the grass of the verge edged with the first of the autumn frost that crunched beneath his feet as he walked, but Caleb found the cold air pleasant. It stung a little against his face, against what little skin wasn’t covered by his coat or scarf, but it was good. It was refreshing. It made the day feel brighter and clearer, and he distracted himself from his phone by doing his best to take in the area around him as he walked to the bus stop. He didn’t look at his phone on the bus, either, but he could feel it sitting still and silent in his pocket, giving no indication that the text had been seen or even received. It didn’t buzz during the journey, or during the short walk to Gilmore’s Glorious Grounds, or while he purchased his coffee from Keyleth, who seemed to be as bright and as cheerful as always. It was only when Caleb got to the museum and was just about to settle in to his office that his phone buzzed with a response, and in his haste to pull it out of his pocket and check his messages, Caleb very nearly dropped his phone into his coffee.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** hey caleb. don’t worry, this is caduceus. I gave you the right number, but thank you for checking anyway. I appreciate that  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** and thank you for texting me, too. I also appreciate that

Caleb smiled to himself, dropping into his office chair as he read over Caduceus’ messages. He didn’t know how, but even in these two short, simple text messages he felt like he could hear Caduceus’ voice, his particular style of speech and cadence. It wasn’t as good as the real thing – Caleb didn’t think anything could be as good as the real thing – but it was nice all the same. It was something.

It was enough.

Almost without thinking, Caleb texted him back.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I am glad to hear that, Caduceus. Thank you for letting me know.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I hope you are having a good morning.

He hit ‘send’ before he could stop himself, but there was barely enough time for him to process his action before his phone buzzed with a response.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I am, thank you!  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** and it’s all the better for hearing from you  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I hope you are having a good morning too, caleb
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I am.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Very much so.

Already, the stress and panic and worry of the morning was gone. Caleb could remember it, could recall how concerned he’d been about texting Caduceus at all, but the feelings didn’t exist anymore. He wasn’t going to discredit his earlier feelings – his therapist had taught him better than that – but, for now, he was content to ignore them. He didn’t want to feel nervous. Not when he could be talking to Caduceus instead.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I’m really glad to hear that, caleb  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** you deserve to have good mornings
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** They are better when I hear from you [unsent]

“What’re you smiling at?” came Nott’s voice from the door. Caleb jumped slightly, his thumb twitching against his phone screen, and looked up at Nott, hastily schooling his expression into a more neutral one. If the look on Nott’s face was anything to go by, it wasn’t a very believable expression.

“Hm?” he asked. “I am- it is just- nothing.”

Nott squinted at him. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You’re not normally this chipper this early in the morning. You practically look like Jester.”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m perfectly civil in the morning.”

“You are,” Nott agreed, “but you normally need coffee to get you to that point.”

Wordlessly, Caleb pointed to the paper cup on his desk.

For a few long, quiet seconds, Nott’s gaze travelled from Caleb’s face, to his coffee cup, and then back again. She didn’t stop squinting, still not appearing to be entirely convinced of Caleb’s answer, but another second passed before she gave a short, dismissive shrug, her face clearing.

“Alright,” she said, crossing to her desk. “Gilmore’s coffee must be really good today. From the look on your face I’d assumed you were- I don’t know, watching a cat video, or talking to one of your friends back in Rexxentrum.”

Caleb gave a short laugh. “I am- I am not watching a cat video, Nott. I am just texting someone.”

“Ooh, who?”

“No one who should concern you.”

Nott frowned at him, wrinkling her nose. “Fine,” she said after a moment’s pause, her voice full of fake disappointment. “I see how it is. You don’t trust me enough yet. That’s alright. I’m not hurt by that at all.”

Caleb snorted. “ _Nott_.”

“What? You’re a very secretive man, Caleb! Almost as secretive as Fjord, or Mr Mercer.”

“You have to admit that you have actually seen me on more than one occasion, though, whereas Mr Mercer-”

“Details!” Nott interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “They’re not important. Anyway, you get back to texting this mystery person of yours. Be all chipper and cheerful for once.”

Caleb didn’t choose to comment on how he felt he was chipper and cheerful fairly often these days. He opened his mouth, about to respond on some other topic, and then shut it a moment later, when he felt his phone buzz between his hands once again. Before he could stop himself he looked down at the screen, and the first thing that he saw stopped his heart in his throat.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** They are better when I hear from you

Oh, _fuck_. He hadn’t meant to send that. He hadn’t meant to send that now, or possibly ever. It was too much, far too much, to be sending Caduceus. Caleb liked him – he was hardly oblivious to his own feelings, despite what Jester and Nott may think – but this was- it was-

It was a message, he realised with a sudden rush of relief, that Caduceus had responded to. And not, it seemed, in a displeased way.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** Aw, thank you ^-^ I’m very glad to hear that  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I really hope I can make your mornings better when I’m in felderwin too  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** that would make me very happy
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** That would make me very happy, too.

Gods. _Gods_. What was he- what was he _doing_? He was texting a friend, and that was all, but it felt like more than that, somehow. It felt like something- well, perhaps not something more significant than friendship, because Caleb knew just how important good friends were, but something _more_. Something different, something almost familiar but not quite, and something that he wanted to do more of. He wanted to keep texting Caduceus. He wanted to tell Caduceus how much he would miss him.

He wanted to do so, so much more than that.

Caleb’s phone buzzed again. He looked down at it, unable to stop himself from smiling at the sight of the simple smiley emoticon that Caduceus had sent. It was the same one that was attached to his contact name, but that just made Caleb smile wider, remembering their conversation. Unthinkingly, his thumbs flew across the keyboard, tapping out a short message.

And then, with his thumb hovering over ‘send’, he paused.

He didn’t yet know where the line was drawn between him and Caduceus. If he was honest, he didn’t even know if there _was_ a line between them, but he had always assumed that there was. There must be. There were lines between everyone, one way or another, and just because some of Caduceus’ comments could be interpreted as flirtatious didn’t mean that that line didn’t exist. Something, at some point, would cross it, and when it did, Caleb didn’t know what the consequences would be.

On-screen, the emoticon next to Caduceus’ named smiled up at him, bland and unassuming and not nearly so pleasant as Caduceus’ actual face. Caleb hadn’t been lying when he said that. He didn’t think he’d ever lied to Caduceus.

And he didn’t want to lose him.

Caleb bit his lip between his teeth, and then switched off his phone screen and tucked his phone back into his pocket. That text could stay undelivered. That text could stay quiet.

That text, Caduceus didn’t need to see.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I will miss seeing you more than you know, Liebling. I already cannot wait for you to return. [unsent]

\---

At the close of the work day, Caleb joined the others in saying farewell to Caduceus.

He’d been trying not to think about it all day, and had been failing miserably. Between work, and coffee, and physically hunting down employees to harangue them into returning books now long past their loan date, he’d managed to keep himself mostly distracted, but it wasn’t enough. He’d traded texts with Caduceus on and off as the day had passed, finding himself quickly falling into the pattern of checking his phone whenever he got a free moment. It was good. It was nice.

It wasn’t enough.

Not even his now-standard afternoon shipping forecast tea break with Caduceus felt like enough. They held hands as they always did now, Caduceus’ fingers warm against his own, and if Caleb squeezed a little tighter than he normally did, Caduceus didn’t mention it. He just smiled at Caleb, his expression so soft and familiar that it made something in Caleb’s chest sting at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to see that same gentle look for at least a week, and drank his tea, and stroked his thumb against the back of Caleb’s hand.

And the whole time, Caleb wanted to move closer.

He wanted to lift their hands, and set them down in his lap, or atop Frumpkin in Caduceus’ lap, and scoot across the few inches of desk space that remained between them, and lean his head against Caduceus’ side. He wasn’t nearly tall enough to rest his head against Caduceus’ shoulder, but he didn’t mind that. He liked that Caduceus was tall. He liked that Caduceus was slender. He liked Caduceus’ sweaters, and his long, delicate fingers, and the flat plane of his nose and the shape of his smile and the colour of his eyes. He liked everything about him, and he didn’t want him to leave.

But, because jobs such as theirs required the odd bit of travelling from time to time, Caduceus had to, and Caleb knew it. And so, after listening to the shipping forecast, and having lunch, and returning to his office, and texting Caduceus a firbolg emoji that was almost, but not quite, as sweet and cute as he was, Caleb finally, _finally_ , made his way to the break room with the others. Jester was already there, bouncing in place slightly and chattering away to a rather disgruntled looking Keg. It was only when Caduceus arrived, stooping at the door frame as he so often did, that Jester broke off from her conversation, making a bee-line for Caduceus.

“ _Caduceus_!” she squealed. She stretched up, holding her arms out expectantly, and Caduceus only gave a short, quiet chuckle before stooping down to give her a hug. The angle looked a bit awkward, making Caleb think that Caduceus _must_ be getting a crick in his back from it, but neither of them seemed to mind, and after a few moments of tight hugging Caleb watched as Jester leaned back slightly and, seemingly without effort, lifted Caduceus off the ground.

It was a rather amusing sight, watching Jester so easily pick up someone who was almost two feet taller than her, and Caduceus seemed to think so too. He laughed again, giving Jester’s hair an affectionate ruffle when she set him back down on his feet.

“Oh, I’m going to miss this,” he sighed, giving Jester one last squeeze before ducking his head to kiss her on the forehead. Jester giggled, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek while he obligingly stayed stooped low enough for her to reach.

“I’ll miss it too,” she said. “But you’ll be back soon, yeah?”

“Oh, absolutely. And you’re more than welcome to come and visit me at the weekend, you know. I’m going to be staying with relatives, but there should be plenty of space for you.”

“I can’t,” Jester pouted. “I’m busy with this new exhibit that _Fjord_ wants me to do.” She turned to look at Fjord, her eyes narrowed in a glare, but the smile that immediately crossed her face made it clear how she really felt. Fjord rolled his eyes, huffing out a sigh.

“Jester,” he said, “I think you might be forgetting that you were the one who _offered_ to come in on the weekend and work on the display. Something about it being ‘ _soooooooo_ super cool, you guys?’”

“It _is_ super cool! Tell him, Beau!”

“It is pretty interesting,” Beau admitted, before clapping her hands together loudly. “But anyway, that’s enough boring chatter! It’s my turn to say goodbye to Deuces! Jester, step away. I’ve gotta hug a firbolg.”

The conversation seemingly over, hugs were then doled out to anyone who wanted one, which seemed to be the majority of the museum’s staff who Caleb had come to know. Beau gave Caduceus a quick, tight hug, following it with the lightest punch on the arm that Caleb had ever seen from her; Yasha gave him a short, brief, tight embrace; Nott was physically held aloft by Jester so that she could reach Caduceus’ shoulders and chest in order to hug him properly; Calianna hugged Caduceus almost as tightly as Jester did; and even Fjord stepped in for a brief, suitably professional embrace, clapping Caduceus on the back a few times before stepping away. Caleb watched the whole exchange with a slightly wistful smile from his spot against the wall. He would like to join in. He would very much like to join in – he would like to able to walk up to Caduceus as confidently and as calmly as everyone else in the Asshole Squad did, with no worries or fears about if they were really friends or not, or about what the others may say or think. He would like to feel Caduceus’ arms around his shoulders again; he would like to press his face to Caduceus’ chest and remember all over again the scent of peat and petrichor and rosehip tea. He would like all of that.

But despite everything that had happened with Caduceus, he still didn’t feel like he could. He was Caduceus’ friend, possibly, and he hoped that he was Beau’s, and Nott’s, and Jester’s, and _maybe_ Fjord’s too, in the loosest sense of the word, but he wasn’t their… he wasn’t… he wasn’t part of their group, or if he was, he didn’t know it. He was still the newcomer, was still on the outskirts, was still hoping every day that he was successfully proving himself both as a worthwhile employee and as a person who didn’t need to be coddled, and who wasn’t annoying because of his anxieties. He didn’t have the same casual, easy air that everyone else had.

He wished that he did, though. He wanted, so badly, to give Caduceus a hug, and to be held by him in return. He wanted to take Caduceus’ hand here, in front of everyone else, and tangle their fingers together, and feel the brush of peach-fine fur against his palm, and bask in the comfort and closeness that it brought him. He wanted to lean against Caduceus’ side in the break room, and brush his hair back behind his ears when it fell free from its bun, and learn if his ears were really as soft as his lips. There were so, so many things that Caleb wanted to do.

Just for a moment, Caleb let his gaze drop to Caduceus’ lips.

“Caleb?” Beau said, with a tone that implied that she’d called his name once already. “C’mon, dude.”

Caleb blinked, snapping himself out of his daze. “Mm, _was_?”

Beau inclined her head towards Caduceus, who seemed to be trading a few words with Nott. “You gonna go say goodbye to him or what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Caleb shifted awkwardly in place, feeling Frumpkin nudge against his ankles, “I- _ich_ -” he muttered, giving a small shrug. “I am- I do not know if I should.”

“Why not?”

“It is- I do not know him as well as you all do. That is all.”

Somehow, impossibly, Beau’s eyebrow raised even higher. “Seriously?” she asked, her tone pitched low enough not to carry across to the others. Caleb doubted that they would have heard her anyway – Fjord and Jester were already leaving, Jester waving a final goodbye over her shoulder before looping her arm through Fjord’s, and Calianna and Yasha were speaking quietly by the doors, Calianna’s quiet laugh just about audible over the murmur of Nott and Caduceus’ conversation – but he still appreciated it. Beau had a knowing look in her eye, as if she could see right past whatever weak pretences Caleb was hiding behind and right down to the true, uncomfortable core of the matter. She scooted in a bit closer, her expression shifting slightly. “Seriously?” she repeated. “I mean… Caleb, c’mon, I know you’ve got some shit going on and whatever, but this is _Caduceus_. He’s probably going to say goodbye to the janitors and café staff and everyone. It’s like, his thing, or whatever. And besides, you two seem… close.” She cleared her throat quietly, briefly looking back over at Caduceus. “ _Very_ close.”

Caleb sighed. “Beauregard-”

“Hey, no, I’m not- I’m not being Nott or Jester about all this, alright?” she assured him quickly, raising a calming hand. “Promise. I’m just saying that you seem kinda cosy, you know? Like, you and I, we’re friends, right?”

_I hope so_. “Right.”

“Right. And you’re friends with Nott, too, and with Jester, and you’re definitely friends with Caduceus, but you and Caduceus are on, like…” Beau trailed off, making some strange gesture with her hands that Caleb couldn’t follow. “You’re on _next level_ friendship. Like, the kind of friendship where you trade your deepest secrets at sleepovers, or shit like that.”

“We have not had any sleepovers-”

“Alright, yeah, shut up, you know what I mean!” Beau interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You guys are _mushy_ , alright? And, like, not to sound too much like Jester here, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that you guys were already… hugging.”

Caleb frowned. He didn’t like the implications of Beau’s pause before ‘hugging’. “Beauregard, whatever you are trying to imply-”

“I’m not implying anything.”

“ _Ja_ , sure, but I- _ich_ \- it is not like that, okay? Caduceus and I… we are… we are friends, I think, but I have not- this is-”

“Whatever,” Beau interrupted loudly, shoving him forwards. “I’ve heard enough excuses, alright?  Stop trying to talk yourself out of this, Widogast. I can _see_ you staring like an idiot, alright? I’m not blind.” She shoved him again, making him take a few half-stumbled steps forwards. “Go get your firbolg hug. No one’s going to judge you or anything. We all know that Caddy gives great hugs.”

_I know he does_ , Caleb wanted to say. _I have wanted to hug him since that incident with the radiator_.

He didn’t say that, though. He didn’t know why, but the memory of that hug, of that single moment of closeness and warmth and comfort between him and Caduceus… that was his, and his alone. It wasn’t his the same way the memories of his parents were his, something to hoard lest the touch of other people ruined and shattered them, but it was his in that it was something uniquely personal and private. That was _his_ hug. It wasn’t anyone else’s.

Caleb took another step forwards when Beau poked him in the side, grumbling under his breath at her before slowly approaching Caduceus where he was bent in conversation with Nott.

“…and you’ll bring me back something too, right?” Nott was asking, her eyes wide.

Caduceus nodded. “Yeah, of course I will,” he said. “I promise. I said I’ll bring back presents for anyone who wants one, and that means you. If that haberdashery you told me about is still open, I’ll see if I can find you some buttons.”

“Thank you. Oh, and don’t forget to say hello to-”

“Yeah, I’ll say hello to Edith if I see her. I’ve got it written in my diary so that I don’t forget.”

“Oh, good, good. You make sure to have fun in Felderwin, alright? Let me know if you need any recommendations of things to do and see.”

“Aw, thanks,” Caduceus replied, “but I’m going to be pretty busy while I’m there. I’ll be sure to do that if I find myself with time to kill, though.”

Caleb frowned when he heard Caduceus say that, chewing absently on his lower lip. He didn’t want to disturb Caduceus when he was away. He didn’t want to detract from his already limited downtime. He knew that Caduceus had outright told him that he wouldn’t be a bother, and that he was welcome to text or call him whenever he so wished, but the fear and concern and worry were there all the same, gnawing away at his stomach and making his bones feel prickly-sharp with discomfort and anxiety. He didn’t want to be a distraction. He didn’t want to be an annoyance.

_Come on, Caleb, can’t you just stop it with your anxiety and all? Just for a short while? This really isn’t anything big; just do it, and then it will be done._

Even in his head, Astrid’s voice was as sharp and clear as it ever had been. Caleb frowned further, curling one hand into a fist and pressing his nails against his palm. He couldn’t- he _wouldn’t_ think about Astrid, He wouldn’t think about Rexxentrum. Not here, and not now. Not when he was about to say goodbye to Caduceus.

As he watched, Nott reached up, hugging Caduceus as best she could one last time. “Bye, Deucey,” she said again, making Caduceus chuckle and quickly ruffle her hair. “I look forward to seeing what you bring me!” And with that she patted him affectionately on the knee, stepped back, and, with a wave over her shoulder, turned and left the room.

Almost immediately, Caduceus’ gaze turned to Caleb. He smiled, soft and slow just how he always did whenever he saw Caleb, and Caleb felt something in his chest squeeze, the knot of anxiety in his stomach loosening even as loss settled further throughout his mind. He didn’t want to lose that smile. Not even for a week.

He swallowed. “You- you are going to be bringing something back for Nott?” he asked. It was all he could think to say, all that seemed reasonable to say. He didn’t want to tell Caduceus how much he’d miss him, not again. Not now, with so many other people so close by. That farewell, the honest farewell… that had already happened, in the soft silence of the mycology department where there was no one else to see just how strongly Caduceus’ absence was going to affect Caleb. That was for Caduceus to know, and no one else. Caduceus could be trusted with that knowledge.

Caduceus could be trusted with anything.

Caduceus nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I am,” he replied. “It’s become a bit of a thing, really – whenever I go away somewhere I like to bring back nice little gifts and presents for people who want them.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Mm. I could bring you back something, if you’d like.”

Caleb smiled, glancing down at his feet. “I, ah, I do not want to be an inconvenience. And besides, I wouldn’t know what to ask of you anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Caleb heard Caduceus reply. He looked up from the safety of his shoes, making eye contact with Caduceus once again. Caduceus’ eyes were so, so pretty. They always had been. “Some of the others, like Beau and Yasha, just ask me to surprise them. I could do that, if you’d like.”

“I- ah- if it would not-”

“It won’t be an inconvenience, Caleb. I promise. I told you yesterday that you’d never be a bother, and I meant that.”

“I know.” He did. He did know. Caduceus wouldn’t lie to him. “I am just… it is…” Caleb sighed, trailing off, and rubbed absently at his arms. “Nevermind,” he murmured.

Caduceus reached out, placing a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Really,” he assured him, his voice quietly. “I mean what I said. Whenever you want to reach out, you just do it.”

“…I’ll try my best.”

“Good,” Caduceus replied. “Now, I’m going to assume that you’re here to say goodbye too, yeah?”

“ _Ja_.”

“And that, like Nott and Beau and all the others, you’ll be wanting a hug? I’ve been told that I give very good hugs.”

“You do,” Caleb said, before he could stop himself. “You- you really do, Caduceus.”

“Aw, thank you. Now come here,” Caduceus said, and then, quite suddenly, Caleb was being hugged.

He tensed, caught off-guard by the unexpected contact, but barely half a second later he felt every part of his body relax instinctively into Caduceus’ embrace. Caduceus was warm, his arms wrapped gently enough around Caleb’s body that Caleb could bolt and break away if he so wanted to, but the moment Caleb raised his arms, wrapping them around Caduceus’ back, Caduceus squeezed back tighter. It was, quite possibly, the best feeling in the world. Caleb didn’t want to let go.

Caleb never wanted to let go.

Caduceus’ sweater was soft against his face, smelling of tea and peat and moss and all the calming, grounding things that Caleb had come to associate so closely with Caduceus. He breathed in, feeling them coming home to roost in his lungs, and felt Caduceus’ arms tighten around him, holding him closer still. It wasn’t a tight hug, but it was a close one, and in that moment, that was what Caleb needed. Caduceus didn’t squeeze, didn’t apply any amount of pressure that might be uncomfortable. He just held Caleb as if that was the most natural state of being for both of them – some wonderful, thoughtless state to which they would always return.

Caleb wanted to return to this. He wanted to hug Caduceus, and for Caduceus to hug him again, and for Caduceus to hug him over and over until it felt like every physical expression of his jittery, nervous mind had been soothed away by the weight and pressure of Caduceus’ arms around his shoulders. He could feel Caduceus’ hands pressing warm and certain against his back, heating his skin even through the layer of his cardigan; twin brands that he would willingly accept. He could feel Caduceus’ chest rising and falling with every breath, could faintly hear the steady thrum of his heart, could feel the life and warmth and _care_ of Caduceus. He could feel how much Caduceus cared for him.

Caleb wasn’t sure of how much time had passed when Caduceus finally loosened his hold and stepped away. It could have been hours, though he knew that it was most likely little more than a few seconds – time didn’t seem to have much weight or bearing when Caduceus was hugging him. Time didn’t matter. When he was hugging Caduceus, he didn’t have to think about things like his workload, or his next appointment with his therapist, or the little anxieties that had populated his life for so long. There wasn’t any of that. There was just Caduceus.

There was just Caduceus, smiling down at him, his eyes gentle and his expression soft and everything about him so, so familiar and comforting.

Caleb smiled back. “Goodbye, Caduceus,” he said quietly.

“Goodbye, Mr Caleb.”

“Stay saf- have fun.”

Caduceus’ smile widened. “You stay safe too,” he said, his voice soft and low. “Remember to look out for yourself, alright?”

Despite himself, Caleb felt his smile grow a little more genuine. “Alright. I will- I will remember that.”

“Good. And, Caleb?”

“Mm, _ja_?”

A small, fond look crossed Caduceus’ face. “When you get the chance,” he said, “you should really go and take a look at the tea cupboard in my office. Just a, ah, a little suggestion for you.”

Caleb frowned. “ _Ja_? Why?” To the best of his knowledge, there was nothing in there beyond Caduceus’ normal tea brewing supplies – a small pot of sugar, the tins of tea that seemed to change as frequently as the weather, their two mugs (for one was undeniably Caleb’s now), and the two tea strainers.

“Just… take a look at it,” Caduceus replied, in the vague way that he so often spoke. Caleb knew he would miss it. He knew he would miss everything about Caduceus. “And you’re welcome to help yourself to anything you find in it, by the way. There’s no point in having tea around if no one’s going to drink it, you know.”

“…Alright,” Caleb said slowly. He supposed that was a reasonable enough suggestion, though to the best of his knowledge, it would take a long, long time for any of Caduceus’ tea to go off. Caduceus was always careful with how he stored and prepared them, Caleb had realised. He took his time, made sure the tins were tightly sealed before putting them back in their cupboard. Whatever was in them, it could very well wait until Caduceus got back.

Except, it seemed, that Caduceus didn’t want that, and Caleb couldn’t deny that he’d become rather partial to a few of the blends that Caduceus had presented to him.

“Alright,” he muttered again, more certainly this time. Caduceus patted him gently on the shoulder and then stepped back, leaving cool air to fill the space where he had once stood.

“Alright,” he echoed. “Now, I’ve gotta be going.” He looked over towards the door, raising one hand in a wave. “Goodbye, Miss Beauregard.”

“See ya, Deuces,” Beau replied from her spot beside the door, waving back lazily. “Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t die.”

Caleb felt himself pull a slight face at that, but Caduceus only gave a soft, quiet laugh. “Ah, thank you, I’ll do my best,” he said, chuckling to himself. “And all the same to you, Beau.”

“Nothing here is strong enough to kill me,” Beau replied casually.

“Oh, I mean, I don’t know about that-”

“Caduceus?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fuckin’ harsh my buzz, dude.”

Caduceus laughed again, the sound quiet and warm. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

“Greatly appreciated. And now, despite this very touching farewell, I’ve gotta bounce. Got shit to do, you know how it is. You wanna walk out with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

“Sweet. Come on then, dude. No time like the present.”

“I suppose there isn’t,” Caduceus accepted and, next to him, Caleb felt his heart sink a little.

_This is it_ , he thought. _After this, it will be at least a week until he returns_. He followed Caduceus to the door, watching mutely as Beau waved a goodbye to him and then slipped out, the door shutting quietly behind him. Caduceus turned to look at him, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind Caleb’s ear.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Caleb felt his lips twitch. “Hey.”

“You alright? You’re looking kind of glum.”

“I am- I- I am alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. I am just… I will miss you a lot, Caduceus.”

Caduceus’ smile faltered, just for a moment. “I’ll miss you too, Caleb.” His hand slipped from Caleb’s cheek, dropping back down to his side. Caleb hadn’t even realised it had been there, but he missed the touch immediately. “But I’ll see you again before you know it, alright?”

“Alright,” Caleb echoed.

“Look after yourself,” Caduceus said again, and, with one last parting smile, he stepped through the door and was gone.

For a few long seconds, Caleb merely stood in the now-empty break room. Some fuzzy, distant part of his brain was telling him that he had to move, that he needed to go home and feed Frumpkin and make himself dinner and generally exist as a person, but he didn’t, not immediately. And, when he finally did, he didn’t find his feet carrying him back to his office to collect his bag.

Instead, they carried him to the mycology department.

The room was abandoned when Caleb walked in, silent save for the sound of his footsteps crossing the linoleum floor and the soft humming of the extractor fans. Beyond the windows he could faintly hear the rushing of traffic as, all around the city, people started heading home for the evening, but, in here, it was quiet. In here, it was safe.

He crossed to Caduceus’ desk almost unconsciously, his feet carrying him there with no specific input from his brain. It was simply what he did, what he had always done here – it felt as easy and as natural as breathing to cross the room, and approach the stretch of desk that belonged to Caduceus, and take his seat on it, next to where Caduceus always worked. It felt natural to look over to one side, and smile when he caught sight of Caduceus, his hair turned every shade of pink in the sunlight.

Except that Caduceus wasn’t here. And he wouldn’t be here for another week at the very least.

Caleb drummed his fingers against the desk absently, chewing on his bottom lip. He didn’t need to be here. Caduceus had told him to look at the tea cupboard in his office, but he’d told Caleb to look at it when he got the chance to, not immediately after his departure. This wasn’t his space, and it wasn’t his office, and he _shouldn’t be here_. He shouldn’t be reading into Caduceus’ words too much. He shouldn’t be considering his _own_ thoughts too much. There was nothing here. There was nothing happening.

He didn’t need to be here.

“What do you think, Frumpkin?” Caleb asked quietly, looking down at his cat. “Should we go home? It is late…”

Frumpkin looked up at him, seemingly entirely unbothered by Caleb’s entire conundrum. Caleb sighed.

“I know,” he muttered. “It is not that late.” It wasn’t late at all, actually. It was just gone the end of the normal work day, and Caleb had stayed behind at the museum much, much later than this on a few occasions. He could easily stay behind, check the tea cupboard, and then go home. At the very worst, he’d get home maybe an hour later than normal, if that. There was no reason for him _not_ to check the cupboard now, and yet-

And yet.

And yet, here he was, trying to come up with some stupid, pointless reason _not_ to do this thing that he wanted to do. He didn’t even know why he was trying to do it -and, gods, but his old therapist would have had a field day with that – but he was all the same. He was holding himself back, keeping himself away from Caduceus even in this tiny, insignificant thing. It was just tea. It shouldn’t matter, and so why was he trying to find excuses for himself? Why was he trying not to let himself do this thing that Caduceus had outright _told_ him to do?

_Why are you not paying attention to your own feelings, Caleb?_

Caleb abruptly stood from the desk, turning and walking towards the tea cupboard in the corner before he could let that thought run any further. He didn’t need to think about that. That wasn’t- that didn’t matter. Whatever he felt for Caduceus, whatever it was, it was- he couldn’t- he _shouldn’t_ -

It was friendship, and fondness, and nothing else. He wasn’t looking for anything else. He didn’t _want_ anything else. He was happy to have Caduceus as his friend. He was happy to sit with Caduceus, and feel the warmth in his stomach whenever Caduceus took his hand, and drink tea with him and spend time with him and marvel at the play of light over his features. He was happy with that. He was content with that.

He had to be content with that.

Caleb gave his head a quick shake, doing his best to dismiss the thought from his mind, and reached up, stretching slightly to reach the firbolg-height cupboard that was now before him. Frumpkin made a curious sound by his feet, hopping up onto the counter next to him as Caleb pulled the cupboard open. At first glance, it seemed that nothing had changed – there were still the mugs, and the tea strainers, and the pot of sugar. There were even the tins that Caduceus had encouraged him to use.

And then Caleb saw it.

There were not just Caduceus’ standard three or four tins of tea on the shelves. Things had been moved around slightly, making space for a new collection of containers. Unlike Caduceus’ normal containers, these ones didn’t have the wildflower pattern that his other ones did. These ones were slightly darker than the pale cream of his other tins, being a soft sky blue in colour, and each and every one bore a pattern of snowdrops, covering the surface of the tin beneath the small, brightly-coloured post-it notes stuck to them.

Caleb reached out, taking the one closest to him and pulling it down.

> _Caleb,_
> 
> _Chamomile and honey, for when you need a bit of sweetness._
> 
> _-Caduceus Clay_

With careful, steady hands, Caleb lifted the lid of the tin. The scent of chamomile tea rose to meet him immediately, the smell of it familiar not just since the very first tea session that they shared together, but from the numerous other sessions since. It wasn’t Caleb’s absolute favourite tea – they were still trying to find that one – but it was one that he had found himself becoming very fond of. Caduceus seemed to always know when Caleb most needed it. If Caleb was having a bad day, or if his brain was being sharp and anxious and angry, or if the memories at the back of his skull were doing their best to make their way to the front of his mind, then Caduceus would bring out the chamomile, and brew it quietly and calmly, and then speak as much or as little as Caleb wanted. Sometimes, Caleb wanted silence. More often, he found himself wanting to listen to Caduceus speak, letting his soft, deep, rumbling voice fill his mind until there was nothing else in it.

Caleb replaced the lid of the chamomile, placing it to one side. He heard Frumpkin giving it a curious sniff but didn’t look down at him, instead reaching up for another one of the snowdrop tins.

> _Caleb,_
> 
> _Cardamom, star anise, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, liquorice root, jasmine, and rose petals. For when you need to focus._
> 
> _-Caduceus Clay_

This one was a familiar scent, too, sharp and warm and spicy all at once. It was another of Caleb’s favourites, one that he would, very occasionally, deliberately ask for. He’d even taken a mug of it back to his office on one occasion, when he hadn’t been able to stay for as long as normal due to work that he needed to get done, but had wanted to see Caduceus all the same. It had been strangely familiar, looking at his desk and seeing the mug sitting there, patterned with ferns. It felt like it was supposed to be there.

The tea in the next tin that Caleb pulled down was just as familiar.

> _Caleb_ ,
> 
> _Rosehip and hibiscus, for rainy days_.
> 
> _-Caduceus Clay_

The next was familiar, too, as was the one after it. None of the tins were as large as Caduceus’ standard tins, but that just meant that there was more of them in the little cupboard, each one of them bearing a note written out in Caduceus’ careful handwriting.

> _Caleb,_
> 
> _Apple, fennel, moringa, blackberry leaves, spearmint, liquorice root, and apple mint. For when you have been sleeping poorly and need to stay awake._
> 
> _-Caduceus Clay_

> _Caleb,_
> 
> _Strawberry leaves, chamomile, blackberry leaves, heather flowers, lavender, and rose petals. For when you have been sleeping poorly and need to let yourself rest._
> 
> _-Caduceus Clay_

There was only one tin left, and, when Caleb read the note on it, it was to discover that it was the only blend that he didn’t recognise.

> _Caleb,_
> 
> _Rooibos and vanilla. For when you need to mourn._
> 
> _-Caduceus Clay_

Caleb lifted the lid of the tin, taking a curious, cautious sniff. It was sweet, but not as sweet as he had thought it would be – whatever lightness the vanilla may have brought to the blend seemed balanced out by the rooibos, providing a warm, steady undercurrent that the vanilla gently cut through. It wasn’t as delicate a blend as some of the others but it seemed strangely heavy, insofar as a smell could have any weight. It smelled nice. It smelled familiar, at the same time that it was entirely new to him.

Without even thinking, Caleb reached up for his mug and one of the tea strainers. He filled the strainer and set the kettle to boiling, his actions half-automatic just from how many times he’d watched Caduceus going through this same careful ritual. For a moment, the only sound in the mycology department was that of the kettle boiling, followed by the water being poured into the mug. Caleb waited quietly, letting the tea steep the way Caduceus always did, and when he felt that enough time had passed he removed the strainer, gave the tea one last pointless stir, and took a small sip.

Had Caduceus been there, the tea would have been perfect.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done, in order, by [fswrites](https://twitter.com/fswrites), [limeyblueart](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt), and [heidzdraws](https://twitter.com/heidzdraws)! Please go check them out!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **August 26th!**


	11. Chapter 11

Caleb didn’t text Caduceus the first day that he was gone. He didn’t text him the second, either, and he didn’t call him at all during the entire weekend, instead picking up his phone to stare at their previous text conversation before turning the screen off again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to – _gods_ , did he want to – but he didn’t- he couldn’t- he didn’t want to come across as needy, or clingy, or dependent or irritating or annoying or anything like that. It had barely even been two days, after all, and Caleb regularly went that long without seeing or speaking to Caduceus. He didn’t see Caduceus over the weekends, and up until a few days ago they hadn’t been able to contact each other outside of their work emails, but that had always been fine. That had always been manageable. Caleb had always managed to distract himself by focusing on trying to find a new therapist in Zadash, or cleaning his sparsely-decorated flat, or reading or knitting or, on one occasion, trying his hand at a cross-stitch kit that Nott had given him. The weekends had always been fine.

But, he was realising now, even during the weekend he always had the knowledge that he would see Caduceus again on Monday to keep him calm. He always had the knowledge that, on Monday, he would be able to go to Caduceus’ office shortly before midday, and see what tea blend he thought would suit the weather, and sit with him, and listen to the shipping forecast, and hold his hand, and let himself relax. On Mondays, he got to see Caduceus. On Mondays, he got to speak with him.

Not this Monday. There wasn’t going to be any Caduceus on Monday, or on Tuesday, or for the rest of the week. Caduceus had said that he should be back in a week, but Caleb had never dealt well with non-absolute dates, and this was no exception. He wanted Caduceus to return in a week. Hells, he wanted Caduceus to return _now_ , but Caduceus wouldn’t, and there wasn’t even any guarantee that he would be back in one week. He might be back in ten days. He might be back in a fortnight. He shouldn’t, though, be away for any longer than that, and Caleb hated how pathetic he was for immediately lodging the latest possible date of Caduceus’ return in his mind. It was stupid. It was unnecessary. It was completely and utterly pointless, because he and Caduceus were just co-workers, or, at the absolute most, work friends. Caleb shouldn’t be fixating on him like this.

He shouldn’t be pining after him like this.

But, all the same, he was. All the same, he spent the entire weekend picking up his phone, opening his short conversation with Caduceus, and rewriting the same text over and over and over again before forcing himself to put his phone down with the message still unsent. He wanted to text Caduceus, wanted to call him, but he was afraid to.

_I do not want to be a bother_.

He _knew_ that Caduceus wouldn’t mind. He knew that Caduceus wouldn’t think of him like that, but that didn’t stop him from worrying all through the weekend, and right up to Monday morning.

He’d been fidgeting with his phone all morning, tugging it out of his pocket to turn it over in his hands before putting it away again for the entire length of the bus journey to the museum. Even once he got to the museum and had got himself settled at his desk, Frumpkin making himself comfortable in his cat bed atop the filing cabinets, he hadn’t been able to put his phone away for longer than two minutes and, eventually, had just given up entirely and left it face-up on the desk next to his keyboard. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He wasn’t sure if he was actually expecting anything at all. He did his best to distract himself with work, and greet Nott as he usually did, but by the time 10:00 rolled around he’d already nearly lost count of the number of times he’d glanced at his phone.

But at barely just past ten his phone buzzed. Caleb scooped it up without thinking, immediately ignoring the work he had open on his computer, and the moment he saw the name at the top of the screen, he felt warmth flood his chest.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** good morning caleb!  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** i hadn’t heard from you so I thought that I’d get in touch and make sure that you’re doing alright ^-^  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I hope you’ve had a good weekend and that today is a good day

Caleb grinned down at his phone. Even through text, Caduceus still managed to be calming, soothing away what concerns Caleb had had about messaging him with nothing more than a few short texts. Before he could stop himself he felt his thumbs moving, flying across the surface of his phone as he typed out his response.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Good morning, Caduceus.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I am sorry for not texting you earlier. I did not wish to distract you from your visit.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I hope that today is good for you, too.

Almost immediately after hitting send, his phone buzzed with a response.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** you would have been a very welcome distraction yesterday, trust me  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** you’re always a welcome distraction, actually  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** it makes me smile every time I see your name pop up ^-^

Caleb sat back in his chair, lifting a hand to cover the ludicrous, very nearly _smitten_ grin that was threatening to envelop his entire face. He felt a little ridiculous, smiling so much and so widely from nothing but a handful of texts from a co-worker, but he couldn’t stop it any more than he could hold back the tide. He liked Caduceus, and he liked texting him, and receiving texts from him, and hearing about his day and how he would always be happy to receive texts from Caleb and about anything at all, no matter how trivial.

He liked Caduceus.

He liked Caduceus a lot.

Caleb lowered his hand, tapping his thumb against the side of his screen before typing out a response. He didn’t let himself linger on it for too long, didn’t let himself overthink it. He didn’t want to overthink it. He’d never really overthought his words when speaking with Caduceus, not in person, and he didn’t want their text conversation to be any different. He just wanted to talk to him. He just wanted to know that he was making Caduceus smile.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Well, in that case, I will try to distract you more often.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Seeing your name on my phone makes me smile, too.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** aw, I’m glad ^-^  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** you have a really lovely smile, caleb. I’m glad that everyone can see it more often now

Gods. _Gods_. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say in response to that? Caleb could feel his ears flaring red, could feel heat suffusing his face, but, unlike the flush of embarrassment and awkwardness he so often felt upon hearing compliments, this didn’t feel _bad_. It felt nice _,_ all warm and tingly and like he’d done something good. It made him happy. Caduceus made him happy.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Ah, thank you.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** You are much too sweet, Herr Clay.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** naw, I’d say you’re being much too harsh on yourself if anything  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** it’s good to be kind to yourself, caleb
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I am afraid I am not very good at that.

And that, Caleb thought absently, was understating it dramatically.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** no?
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Nein, not at all.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** oh. Well, that’s alright. I don’t mind being kind to you for you  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I rather like it, actually. I like it when you’re happy

Caleb stared down at his phone screen. He wasn’t sure why, or if he was even correct in this feeling, but these texts, Caduceus’ messages… somehow, for some reason, they felt almost flirtatious. Caleb knew Caduceus’ intrinsic kindness by now, knew how it was simply in his nature to be sweet and gentle towards everyone, regardless of how close they were, but this… these texts…

They felt like more than that. They felt just a step above Caduceus’ normal amount of kindness, a touch warmer and a touch more intentional, like he was actively trying to be affectionate in his words and his language. They felt, almost, as if Caduceus was testing the waters, trying to see where some unknown, unacknowledged, invisible boundary lay between them.

They felt like that. They felt like the start of flirting.

Some part of Caleb, warm and close and buried far down enough in his heart that he could barely see it, desperately hoped that they were.

Except, of course, that they couldn’t. They _shouldn’t._ He didn’t- he wasn’t meant to have this. Caduceus didn’t mean to give him this impression, he was sure of it. Caduceus wasn’t being flirtatious, and to even consider that was awful of him. He was assigning feelings to Caduceus that Caduceus definitely didn’t have, and he shouldn’t be doing that. He shouldn’t be overstepping his boundaries. He shouldn’t be-

Before he could think himself into a panic, though, his phone buzzed again.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** oh, I meant to ask!  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** did you see the tea I left for you?
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Ja, I did.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Thank you, Caduceus.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** no problem. did you try the new one?
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Ja.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** did you like it?
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I did.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** It was perfect.

It was _almost_ perfect, actually, but Caduceus didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know how, in that one moment, with the tea light and fragrant on Caleb’s tongue and the museum quiet and calm around him, the only thing that could possibly have made it better was if Caduceus were there himself. He didn’t need to know just how much Caleb missed him, and longed for him to return.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Thank you for the tea, Caduceus.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** ah, of course. I know how important our tea times are to both of us, so I thought I’d make sure you’d have the supplies to have little ones on your own before I get back.  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** and speaking of tea, I was actually thinking of bringing back some new blends from felderwin, if you’d be interested in maybe trying those
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Caduceus Clay, are you really telling me that you are planning on not mixing your own tea for once?
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** well, perhaps ^^. It’s always good to branch out from time to time you know
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I’m shocked.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** This is very bold of you.

Caleb hoped his amusement came across in his text. He didn’t want Caduceus to think that he was being harsh, or judgemental, or anything that was in any way negative.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I can be bold sometimes, when I need to be
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** You can be bold with me, if you would like [unsent]

Caleb stared down at the phone in his hands. He didn’t- he hadn’t- where had that text even come from? He’d managed to stop himself just before sending it - even now his thumb was hovering dangerously over the button, poised to send this stupid, ridiculous, much more than merely _friendly_ message to his co-worker. Caleb knew that he could be oblivious to his own feelings at times, could be oblivious to _flirting_ at times, but even he wasn’t oblivious enough to miss this. Even he could see the slightly more than friendly intent in this message.

Taken a slow, careful breath, Caleb shifted his thumb, and deleted the message. He watched as the letters blinked out one by one, their dark shapes being replaced by the standard background of the empty message bar. He didn’t need to send that to Caduceus. He _shouldn’t_ send that to Caduceus.

But he wanted to.

Before he could think of a suitable response, his phone buzzed again.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** oh shoot, I’m sorry caleb, I need to run  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** feel free to message me throughout the day though, if you want to  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** and I’ll reply to anything you send later ^-^

Caleb felt relief and annoyance rise in him simultaneously. He didn’t want to stop talking to Caduceus, even if he was grateful that he no longer had to focus too much on his own feelings and think of some sort of acceptable response. He knew that he had things to do, knew that he really had to get back to work, knew that no matter how much he may want to he couldn’t _actually_ text Caduceus all day, but being reminded of that was annoying all the same. He wanted to keep talking to Caduceus. He wanted to see Caduceus again. He wanted to hold Caduceus’ hand.

Caleb pushed that thought down, tapping his screen to wake it back up again. Caduceus didn’t know what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Caduceus didn’t know how Caleb longed to see him again, to spend time with him again, to take his hand and feel the delicate lines of his fingers and see the rose-blush colour of his eyes and smell the peat and petrichor that always clung so close to his skin. Caduceus didn’t know any of that, and he wasn’t going to. He didn’t need to.

After a few seconds’ quiet, contemplative silence, Caleb sent back one short, quick text.

Almost immediately, he got a response.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I will do that. Have a good day, Caduceus.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** You have a good day too, Caleb :)

\---

And so, the week continued. Very quickly, Caleb found himself texting Caduceus every day, either sending a good morning text of his own shortly after waking up or receiving one about when he arrived at his office if he felt too anxious and fearful to send one himself. Even now, with the chain of their conversation growing longer every day, he still had his moments of fear that, at any second, Caduceus would suddenly find him too annoying, or too clingy, and would cut off all communication. He knew it was a ridiculous fear, knew that it was unlikely to ever happen but, all the same, he worried.

But, all the same, he texted Caduceus. And as expected, as _promised_ , Caduceus never, ever seemed to get annoyed at him. He didn’t always reply immediately, sometimes leaving Caleb waiting until past the end of the work day for a response, but he always replied eventually, and if his replies were late, he explained why. Often, along with those explanations, he’d include photos of things he’d seen at the museum or during his day that he’d thought Caleb might like; photos of old books in the museum’s library; photos of the cat that liked to hang out at the back of the museum; photos of interesting bugs, or new exhibits at the museum, or samples from the mycology collection that Caduceus got particularly excited by. If he were honest, those were some of Caleb’s favourites. He liked sitting down on his shoddy, second-hand couch in his new house, leaning back against the arm-rest as Frumpkin curled up in his lap, and reading the texts that Caduceus had sent him. He liked seeing Caduceus’ excitement.

He liked seeing Caduceus’ excitement and knowing that, out of everyone, he was the person that Caduceus decided to show it to.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** caleb, take a look at this mycelium specimen!  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** [image attached]  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** isn’t it beautiful?
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Ja, it really is.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** It is very elegant.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** [image attached]  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** [image attached]  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]**!!!
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** These are very pretty specimens, Caduceus.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I’m really glad you think so  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** mycelium is great  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** it likes to stretch out underground - it can go for hundreds of yards without giving any sort of visible presence. most people dont even realise it's there at all
> 
> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Really? That's very interesting.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** yeah! give me a second, I’ll see if I can find some good sample slides to show you.

Caleb smiled down at his phone. It had been just over a week now since Caduceus had left for Felderwin, and they’d been texting every single day during his absence, even managing to listen to the shipping forecast together on one occasion when Caduceus wasn’t too busy. It had been nice, sitting in a quiet corner of the mycology department with his earbuds in as one of the other researchers worked on something on the far side of the room, listening to the radio broadcast and knowing that Caduceus was listening to it too, but it wasn’t the same. There had been no hand for Caleb to hold, no beetle-patterned mug resting on the desk beside him. There had been no Caduceus to meet his gaze, and smile in that gorgeously soft way of his, and make Caleb feel warm down to his bones. There had just been him, and his cat, and the voice of the shipping forecast announcer. It hadn’t been lonely – it couldn’t have been, not when Caduceus called him excitedly the moment the forecast had ended – but it still made Caleb sad. He missed Caduceus. He wanted to see Caduceus, and to hug him, and to drink tea with him out of the mugs that were theirs and theirs only, and he just wanted to be around him. He wanted Caduceus to return to fill all the tiny spaces in his life that Caleb hadn’t even realised he had inhabited.

Caleb tried to return to his work as, presumably, Caduceus set about taking good photos of the sample slides he wanted to show him, but it was tricky. He found his gaze kept drifting back to his phone, waiting for it to light up with another text. More than once he thought it had, but both times it turned out that what he thought was his phone lighting up was a different light source entirely reflecting on the dark glass, casting shifting patterns across the surface of it. It wouldn’t surprise Caleb if he had to wait longer than expected for Caduceus to reply – Caduceus, he’d found, had a tendency to go silent with the intention of showing Caleb one thing, only to reply some five hours later with an extensive collection of multiple photos that he thought Caleb would like to see. It was sweet, making Caleb’s chest feel warm whenever he got Caduceus’ texts.

If he was entirely honest, he felt warm whenever he received _any_ of Caduceus’ text.

Caleb looked up, turning his head to look out of the window and across the courtyard as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Gods, but he liked Caduceus. He really, really liked Caduceus. He possibly liked him too much, but he wasn’t going to think about that. Not now, when Caduceus was still so far away. That was a thought for later. That was a thought for future Caleb. He gave a little sigh, resting his chin in his hand as he stared absently out of the window. From his office he and Nott had a lovely view across the concreted courtyard that was often used as a loading area. Normally there were cars or cans or trucks parked there, blocking their view, but not today. Today, Caleb could see clear across the courtyard and through the windows to the lower level of the opposite wing.

And what he saw in the windows stopped any soft thoughts of Caduceus dead in their tracks.

_Fire._

It twisted just beyond the glass of the windows, casting a flickering, dancing light across the ground. It couldn’t have been burning for very long, still seeming to be quite small, but that thought wasn’t of any comfort to Caleb. The thought that the museum presumably had a fire-suppression system wasn’t of any comfort to him.

All he could think of, all he could see, all he could hear, was the fire shifting and dancing in the window, and the sound of his own blood roaring through his ears.

And then the fire alarms went off.

Their shrieking filled the air immediately, drowning out the standard small, background noises of the museum and replacing them instead with the wailing of sirens echoing up and down the corridors, every sound amplified by the ancient architecture. Caleb thought he heard Nott swearing loudly and suddenly at the unexpected noise, but almost the moment that he had the thought, it vanished. All thoughts vanished. Time vanished.

In Caleb’s eyes, he was no longer looking at the other wing of the museum, watching the flames dancing in its windows.

In Caleb’s eyes, he was watching his childhood home burn as the snow fell around him.

He heard another noise, like the thundering of footsteps, and then he heard another as the door flew open to reveal Beau on the other side of it, but he didn’t pay them much heed. He couldn’t. Everything was monochrome and the flicker-sharp gold and amber of fire now. Caleb wasn’t there. He wasn’t present. He was drifting, untethered from his own skull and only watching with a distant sense of horror and fear as, with every passing second, the flames rose higher beyond the windows.

_It can’t be here,_ he thought. In his head, the fire crackled and roared and turned his every passing thought into ash, leaving him just as hollow as before. _It can’t be real_.

But it was. It had to be. It couldn’t be real and yet he knew that it was, could see the fire and could hear the alarms and could hear Beau shouting, now, urging him and Nott out of their office.

“Come on!” Beau was shouting. She clapped her hands together loudly, keeping the door held open with one foot as she beckoned for Caleb and Nott to leave. “Come on, guys, fire alarm! This isn’t a drill! Get your shit, take only what’s important, and make your way out to the assembly point! No waiting around, no loitering, no lingering-”

“I know, I know!” Nott replied. From the corner of his eye Caleb thought he saw a blur of movement as Nott hopped down from her chair and grabbed her coat, but he wasn’t certain. He wasn’t certain of anything at all, not really. The only thing he was certain about, the only thing his mind could focus on, was the image of flames licking and dancing in the windows on the far side of the courtyard. He managed to turn his head when he heard Beau calling his name above the wailing of the sirens, forcing the motion through limbs that felt weighed down with lead and ash, but he couldn’t hope to place the look that crossed her face the moment she met his gaze. Whatever the look was, it wasn’t important. Whatever the look was, it didn’t matter.

“Nott!” Beau barked, turning her head sharply to look at her. Nott didn’t jump but her head snapped up, watching Beau even as she continued swinging on her coat. “Make sure Caleb has his shit, alright? Don’t question it, just get it done, you got me? Get his shit, put it in his hands, make sure he has his coat and his cat, and then get him out of the building and over to the assembly point. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Nott replied, already nodding. “I can do that. I mean, I already do it with Luc.” She finished tugging on her coat and then scurried over to Caleb, pulling his coat down from the back of his chair when she reached it. “Caleb,” she said, holding his coat out to him. “ _Caleb_.”

Caleb didn’t reply. He was still staring out of the window, watching as the fire swirled beyond the glass in countless shades of orange and red and amber. It was beautiful, almost, like all the shades of the fallen autumn leaves come to life and given the energy to dance and twist and move as they still occasionally did when the wind deemed fit to take them. It was beautiful, and it was mesmerising, and it cast bright, burning light across the memories that Caleb tried so very, very hard to keep suppressed. He could smell the cinnamon-orange scent of the candle he’d lit, could smell the lingering gas that had, unknown to him, still been present in the house. He could smell the tin-sharp tang of the snow, and the oily stench of burning, and he could hear the sirens of the firetrucks wailing about the sharp crackle of flames and hiss of falling snow.

And, underneath it all, he could hear his parents.

“ _Caleb_ ,” Nott said again, her voice louder and sharper. Caleb blinked, feeling a small hand shaking his elbow and, with as much effort as if he had been moving through lead, forced himself to look down at Nott. Even she seemed to be wreathed in flames as the sunlight flickered and fell through what leaves still clung to the trees.

“Mm?” he hummed.

Nott shook his coat at him. “Put on your coat,” she said, in a tone that was so, so similar to Caleb’s mama’s that he took his coat from her automatically and stood from his seat, curling his fingers in the age-worn fabric and starting to tug it on. “Come on, Caleb. We have to go.”

Caleb frowned at that. Nott may have been sure that they needed to go, but he wasn’t. If this was his home he would have been out of the door already, but it wasn’t his home. It was the museum, and it was full of things that were much, much more valuable than he was.

“But,” Caleb muttered, pulling on his coat with hands made numb by fear and dissociation. “But the- the library, the books, the archives-”

“They don’t matter,” Beau said, and Caleb shook his head. He could only hold one thought in his mind right now, past the crackle and roar of fire and the hiss of melting snow, and it was this.

“The _books_ ,” he said again. Almost distantly he felt Frumpkin jumping onto his shoulders and lying down on them as he so often did, the end of his leash being wrapped around his hand by Nott. “They are- they need to be saved.”

“Not today,” Beau said firmly. “Nott, has he got everything?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so-”

“The _books-_ ”

“Not now, Caleb! Come on, we’ve got to go.” He felt Nott’s small hand slip inside his own, holding on as best she could, and then she was tugging him forwards, his satchel – which he hadn’t even noticed being handed to him, let alone being dropped over his shoulder – bouncing against his side above his coat. “Come on,” she said again. She tugged again, yanking him forwards for a few awkward, stumbling steps until his legs seemed to figure out what was going on and started moving with no conscious input from his brain. “You’ve got everything, right?”

“ _Ich- ja_ ,” Caleb muttered, part of his brain quickly cataloguing everything on his person. He had his satchel, and his cat, and his coat, and his-

He didn’t have his scarf.

_He didn’t have his scarf_.

The thought somehow managed to cut through everything else, ringing clear and loud through his head like a cathedral bell.

He didn’t have his scarf. He had his cat, and his coat, and his satchel, and Nott was holding him by the hand and dragging him out towards the door and he _didn’t have his scarf_. He barely even knew where it was right now, barely even knew where anything was except the hungry, voracious fire, but he didn’t have his scarf, and he needed it. He couldn’t lose it. He’d had his scarf for so, so long, and it was old and tattered and in desperate need of being replaced but it _mattered_.

It was one of the few things he had to remember his parents by.

Through the fog of gas and smoke in his head, Caleb just about managed to push the one thought to the forefront just as he and Nott reached the door. “Beauregard,” he said, the word heavy and clumsy on his tongue. Beau looked back inside the room, quickly catching his gaze.

“Yeah?”

“My- my scarf.”

“Can you leave it behind?”

Caleb shook his head. “ _Nein_.”

There was a brief, tiny pause, and then Beau sighed, shoving past him. “Alright,” she muttered, crossing quickly to his desk and a moment later Caleb felt his scarf being dropped around his shoulders, draping over Frumpkin who made a small, disgruntled sound. “There. You’ve got your scarf now. Do you need anything else?”

Caleb shook his head again. He wasn’t feeling any calmer, wasn’t feeling any closer to being present, but the familiar weight of Frumpkin-and-scarf around his neck helped soothe him somewhat. It made the fuzziness in his head feel less like sharp-edged, prickly brambles, and closer to the fuzziness of static that lingered at the edges of the shipping forecast. “ _Nein_ ,” he mumbled. “ _Ich- danke_.”

“Yeah, yeah, _danke_ to you too. Now get the fuck out, alright? Lives before history and all that.” Beau stepped aside, holding the door open for them as Nott, dragging Caleb by the hand, hurried them through it. Beau stepped back from the door, letting it swing shut, and then glanced over them both briefly. “Right, okay, you got all your shit?”

Caleb couldn’t see Nott’s face, not through the blur of his dissociation, but she must have nodded, because a moment later Beau was standing in front of him, one hand warm and heavy on his shoulder.

“Caleb,” she said, giving him a shake. “ _Caleb_.”

As though his mind was moving through treacle, Caleb forced himself to look up at her. “Mm?”

“Go with Nott,” Beau instructed, her voice brokering no argument. Caleb liked that. He liked the clear simplicity of the order. He could follow an order. He could follow an order very well indeed, most of the time. “You got me? Stick with Nott, she’ll get you out.” She paused, as though expecting him to reply, but after a few moments of silence she spoke again. “Caleb? I need to know that you’re here, dude. Or that you can at least understand me. Can you stick with Nott? Can you do that? I just need a ‘yes’.”

Caleb swallowed. Behind his eyes, before his eyes, inside and outside of his skull and all around him, tongues of flame were licking across his life. “ _Ich- ja_ ,” he managed, the words feeling like lead on his tongue, and Beau nodded.

“Good,” she said. She clapped him on the shoulder again and then let go, stepping aside to make space for them. “Right, get moving! Nott, take the fire door-”

“I know, I know, I’ve done all the fire drills,” Nott muttered. She squeezed Caleb’s hand, starting to speed-walk along the corridor to the door out into the courtyard.

“Sorry, I’m albatrossing!” Beau shouted after them. Distantly, Caleb could hear the sound of her starting to move along the corridor, opening doors and urging everyone out of their offices, but he didn’t focus on it. He _couldn’t_ focus on it, not above the wail of the fire alarm and the subdued clamour of well-trained and well-organised people exiting their offices and labs and preparing to leave the building. He couldn’t focus on the sounds of Beau, or on the fire alarm, or on Nott’s hand in his own, or on anything.

At the back of his head, in the shadows and fire where the ashes fell like snow, all he could hear was the steady, repetitive clicking of a gas stove sparking.

“Come on,” Nott muttered. She squeezed his hand, starting to physically drag him along the corridor as they neared it. Vaguely, Caleb could make out the shapes of other museum employees filing through the door, being kept in order by Yasha and another fire warden that he didn’t recognise, but he couldn’t identify any of them. Not now. Not in this state. He was aware of them as he was of his own limbs – he knew, logically, that they were there, and that they were moving, but it wasn’t important. It wasn’t something that he could focus on. Everything felt strangely monochrome, dulled and made quiet at the same time that his head was ringing with the wail of the sirens and the click of the stove, and his heart was hammering beneath his ribs, every breath coming shorter and shallower and his lungs gradually filled with smoke and ash and sparks.

He didn’t notice Nott pulling him towards the door. He didn’t notice her leading outside, or her getting both their names ticked off the employee checklist by Fjord, or her joining Jester and Cali and Keg and several other members of the museum staff that he’d come to recognise. He just barely noticed Frumpkin, purring as hard as he could around his neck. He just barely noticed his own hands, shaking and trembling until he curled them into fists and pushed his nails into his palms.

_We can’t do this_ , Caleb thought to himself, the words almost drowned beneath the fire in his skull. _We cannot do this. We need to leave_.

But in order to leave, he had to be present.

It was hard, was so goddamn, _fucking_ hard to pull himself out of a dissociative state, but he had to do it. He had to. He didn’t even have to be entirely present, not really – he just had to be present enough to fake awareness, to give the impression that he was fine and functioning so that he could leave. That was it. That was all he had to do.

All he had to do was pretend to be fine, and he’d been doing that for so, so much of his life.

Caleb shut his eyes for a moment, ignoring the sounds of nervous chatter and the distant shriek of the fire alarms as he tried to think, tried to remember, tried to focus and breathe and _be present_. He’d been in therapy for long enough now that he didn’t need to focus too hard to remember the exercises that his therapist in Rexxentrum had taught him, but the process of pushing his sluggish, panicked brain through picking out ones that would be suitable was difficult and slow. The ones that worked best for him, the more physical grounding techniques, he couldn’t do right now. He couldn’t take an item from his room and focus on the exact tactile nature of it. He couldn’t sit down with Frumpkin in his lap and focus on the weight of his cat against his legs. He could scratch himself, and he was already doing that in part, but he knew it to be bad, and he knew that it wasn’t something he should be doing at all. His therapist didn’t like him doing it.

Caduceus hadn’t liked him doing it, either.

Slowly, carefully, Caleb uncurled his hands, doing his best to take slow, measured breaths with lungs that felt like they’d been running a marathon. There was still one grounding technique that he knew that should work. There was still something that he could do.

When his heart no longer felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, he opened his eyes.

_Five_.

That was the first step of it; finding five things to visually identify and focus on. Out here, in the now-busy courtyard, closer towards the carpark than the flaming museum, there was no shortage of things to look at. Caleb turned his eyes towards his friends, watching them talking amongst themselves. Jester’s hair was up in two buns, a paintbrush stuck into one of them, and even beneath the overcast sky, her hair shone indigo and navy. _One_. Nott was talking to her; her coat wasn’t done up all the way, and at her neck Caleb could see her necklace of buttons, a colourful riot of bright yellows, reds, and greens. _Two_. Next to Nott, Calianna stood, watching them speak and wringing her hands anxiously as, in her hair, a green ribbon fluttered in the breeze. _Three_. Caleb looked down at his own hands, catching sight of the crescent marks he’d pressed into his own palms. They weren’t pleasant, but they still counted. _Four_. Finally, he turned his head, and looked down at Frumpkin on his shoulder. _Five_.

Five things visually identified. Already Caleb felt a little closer to being himself again. He wouldn’t say that he felt better, because he didn’t, but he felt more present, more able to think and more able to act. If he wanted to, if he really wanted to, he felt that he could stop the grounding technique now and leave with a few quiet muttered words, but he didn’t trust himself enough for that. Not when, at the back of his mind, he could still hear the fire crackling.

_Four_ _things you can touch_.

He could do that. That was quick and easy. Caleb reached up, giving Frumpkin a quick scratch under the chin and focusing on the feeling of his cat’s fur against his fingers before shifting his hand. He moved it down Frumpkin’s back, passing it over his harness, and let his fingertips rest against the smooth, clear plastic pocket that held his service credentials. _One and two_. Easy. He dropped his hand into his pocket, finding the familiar shape of his keys and pressing the cool metal against his palm for three. And then, finally, he took the end of his scarf between thumb and forefinger, and felt the familiar pattern of the yarn.

_Three things you can hear._

The grounding technique became easier the longer Caleb did it, and this step didn’t take him long at all. He could hear old leaves crunching beneath his feet as he shifted his weight from side to side; he could hear Frumpkin, purring against his skin; he could hear Beau, calling their names as she approached their group with Fjord in tow.

_Two things you can smell._

The strange, almost petrichor-like scent of rain-soaked concrete. The scent of cinnamon pastries from the shop down the road that Jester was so very, very fond of.

_One thing you can taste._

Caleb swallowed. There was no taste of gas on his tongue. There was no smoke in his throat. All he could taste, distantly and faintly, was just a hint of rosehip tea.

That would have to do for now. Caleb knew he wasn’t entirely present, his mind still clouded somewhat with smoke and flame and sparks, but he was closer to being alright. He was present enough to hear people speaking and actually understand them without too much difficulty, even if he still felt mere moments away from falling back into panic. He was present enough to make his way to a safe space.

Caleb cleared his throat, looking up and meeting Beau’s gaze almost immediately. It was sharp, balanced between concern and the brusque efficiency that was required in emergencies, but it softened the moment he looked at her.

“Hey,” Beau said, her voice loud enough to carry but not so loud as to attract the attention of the rest of the group. Caleb was grateful for that. “You doing alright, dude?”

Caleb shrugged. “ _Ich_ \- _ja_. Maybe. I am just- I need to- I should- I need to go home,” he mumbled, stepping away from the group. His hands went automatically to the strap of his satchel, wrapping tight around the old, worn leather. “I need to- I need to go home. I have to, um, I need to, I should-”

“Hey,” Beau interrupted. She reached out, moving to grab Caleb by the shoulder, but Caleb flinched away before she could. He still felt sharp and prickly all over, still felt like there were splinters just beneath his skin waiting for the slightest pressure to drive them down to the bone. He couldn’t handle Beau’s touch, not right now. He couldn’t really handle anything.

Beau, though, seemed to recognise that. She lifted her hand the moment he flinched, giving him the space he needed to move back and put some distance between them.

“Hey,” she said again, her tone quieter this time. “Caleb. Dude.”

“I need to go home,” Caleb muttered again, his eyes downcast.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not disagreeing with that, you look like shit, but I was just- you normally get the bus in, right?”

Caleb nodded. “I do, _ja_.”

“Okay, alright. When does the next one arrive?”

“…What time is it?” He hated that he had to ask. He hated that he didn’t just know, the way he so often did. He hated that, right now, his mind was so full of smoke and gas and bone-deep, aching, awful _fear_ that he barely felt like himself.

Beau glanced down at her wrist. “Just gone four.”

“Oh. In forty-three minutes, then, give or take.”

“Fuck,” Beau muttered. She tugged her sleeve back down and looked over at Fjord, making a face that Caleb couldn’t decipher. Some sort of silent conversation seemed to follow, but Caleb didn’t pay it much attention. He couldn’t. Focusing on it, focusing on _anything_ but keeping his memories quiet, and maintaining the focus needed to speak and move and act… that was exhausting, and, right now, he felt as drained of energy as he ever had.

Eventually, Beau looked back at him, waiting for him to drag his eyes up to meet her gaze before jerking her head towards to parking lot positioned further back from the museum. “Come on,” she said. “I’m giving you a lift home.”

Caleb could feel the words lining up on his tongue automatically, and knew them to be false. All the same, he said them. “I am fine, Beauregard-”

“Bullshit,” Beau interrupted. Her voice was sharp, hinting at the stress and worry that Caleb could only assume she and everyone else was also feeling at the situation. “I don’t mean to be a bitch right now, but you look like garbage. And not even recyclable, eco-friendly garbage either; I’m talking _land-fill_ garbage, okay? The shit that ends up in the sea and chokes turtles and all that nasty shit.”

Caleb frowned. “I am not sure where you are going with this-”

“You look like shit, and I’m not making you wait nearly a goddamn hour to get a bus home when I _know_ that you’ve got, y’know…” Beau trailed off, making some of gesture towards Caleb’s head. “Y’know. Your radiator… stuff. And I’ve _seen_ Frumpkin, Caleb, and I’m not stupid. Pardon me for being kind of crass and crude about this, but you’ve got shit going on, and you were fucking _out of it_ when I came to your office, and you still kind of are, and it is my goddamn job to make sure that everyone is okay. And, right now, that means getting you to a safe place, like _your own goddamn home where there isn’t a literal fire_.”

“I am fine-”

“Don’t argue with me, Caleb,” Beau said, and something in her tone made Caleb pause. “Just- let me make sure that you’re alright, okay? Please.”

“…Alright,” Caleb said after a pause, frowning slightly. “ _Ich-_ alright, _ja_. I will- okay.” He paused, and then added, quieter, “…thank you, Beauregard.”

“No problem,” Beau replied. She jerked her head towards the parked cars. “Now, c’mon, let’s get you home. Provided you actually want to, that is,” she added abruptly, her face paling. “Sorry, I just realised that I kind of fuckin’- kind of forced it on you, you know, which was a bit of a dick move of me. I should’ve checked first instead of just, like, assuming that you wanted a lift, that was- I’m in the middle of albatrossing, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you _have_ to do anything, you know your own brain better than I do-”

“Beau,” Caleb interrupted. Beau fell silent immediately and, just for a moment, all the worry and pain and stress that Caleb was feeling was mirrored in her face. “I will- I would like a lift home,” he assured her quietly. “I would- I am not very good with, um… but I would like that.”

“Oh,” Beau said, her face clearing. “Oh, fuck, good, alright. Yeah. Okay, come on.” She turned, carefully stepping away from the group, and, with one quick glance back over her shoulder at Caleb, led the way across the courtyard to her truck. It was a battered old thing in a colour that may have been blue at some point, and it looked like it was held together with string, spit, and hope, but Caleb didn’t care. It was getting him away from the museum, and away from the fire, and to a known safe space, and that meant that, as far as he was concerned, it could look like anything at all. He climbed in once Beau unlocked it, moving Frumpkin down to his lap, and gave her his address as the truck started moving. For a moment he was concerned that Beau would want to ask more questions, or even try and hold a conversation, but she didn’t. She just lapsed into silence with him, and didn’t speak at all as she continued to drive.

In Caleb’s pocket, over the rumbling of the truck, he felt his phone buzz once, and then twice, and then a third time, but he didn’t react to it. He wasn’t quite as numb now as he had been at the museum, his attention and awareness still slowly trickling back in, but, right then, even the thought of taking his phone out of his pocket was exhausting. He didn’t have the mental or emotional energy to read his messages, and process them, and decide how to reply or if they warranted any reply at all. Just _thinking_ about turning his phone on, and seeing all the little applications on-screen, made him feel tired down to his bones. His phone was too much for right now. It wasn’t important.

The messages weren’t important.

Caleb reached down, curling one hand through Frumpkin’s fur as he started to pet him absently. Frumpkin purred, pushing up into the touch as if trying to keep Caleb’s hand where it was and away from his own arms where his nails so often liked to dig and scratch. Caleb knew, with the rational part of his brain that was still working quietly, that that was exactly what Frumpkin was doing, that it was literally Frumpkin’s job to look out for him and help him, but he didn’t focus on the thought. He didn’t let it linger. He just petted his cat, and watched the flames in his memories licking across his family home.

Some period of time later – perhaps five minutes, perhaps an hour, Caleb couldn’t tell – Beau pulled her truck to a stop outside his front door. After the rumble of the engine the sudden silence was almost jarring, but even that abrupt change in volume wasn’t enough to pull Caleb out of his own head. He was more aware than he had been earlier, but it was barely an improvement.

“Caleb,” Beau said. Caleb didn’t respond. He could tell that she was speaking, and could tell that she was speaking to _him_ , but even the thought of responding tired him. He wasn’t present, not really, and he didn’t want to be. His mind had calmed now, no longer engulfing all of his thoughts in flame; everything was quiet, still and dull and as blank as ice. He felt numb, up in his head. He felt stationary.

The outside world was none of that. The outside world was loud, and sharp, and where fire still dwelled. There was no fire in his head now. There was just that empty, echoing numbness, pulling his thoughts down like a void.

“ _Caleb_ ,” Beau said again. She leaned over, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “ _Caleb_. Dude. You with me? Or are you still all spacey?”

Caleb shut his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to concentrate. He had to be here. He had to be present, at least for long enough to walk from the car to his house. Once he was home, he could collapse and break and sink into that numbness as much as he needed to.

_Steady breaths_ , he told himself. _In, hold it, and then out._

“I’m here,” he said, after a few careful, slow breaths. “I am- _ja_ , I am here.”

Beau nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good, that’s what I hoped to hear. You gonna be alright getting inside?”

“I can walk to my own front door, Beauregard.”

“Hey, look, I just figured I’d check, alright?” Beau retorted, but there was no real venom in her voice. “I don’t want you collapsing the second you get out of the truck. I’m meant to be momma albatross-ing you, and it looks real fuckin’ bad if one of my chicks falls over right before I get him back into the nest.”

Caleb gaped at her for a second. He knew he was still slightly out of it, but he couldn’t imagine her statement making much more sense even if he was in the best mental state possible. “…Beauregard?”

“What?”

“I think you may have taken that metaphor too far.”

“Aw, fuck, really?”

“ _Ja_.”

“Damn. Point still stands, though.”

“Regardless, I think I will- I will be fine, Beauregard. Thank you, though.”

Beau shrugged, reaching over to open Caleb’s door as he unclipped his seatbelt. “No worries, dude. Also, if you feel like you need some more time to destress or whatever tomorrow let me or Fjord know, alright? I’m just giving you the heads-up now that that is _entirely_ cool to do, and we’re not going to mind, and that there’s a good chance that you won’t need to come in tomorrow anyway due to the whole, uh, _state_ of the museum. Just so you know.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, pausing half-out of his seat. He hadn’t even considered that. “That is- _ja_ , okay. I will keep that in mind.”

“Good shit. Now, you look after yourself, alright?”

“I will- I will do my best. And- Beauregard?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the lift home.”

Beau smiled. “No problem.”

Caleb shut the car door behind him with one brief, fleeting smile to Beau, and walked the short distance to his own front door. The cool autumn air was refreshing, the world around him gloriously quiet and calm. He could hear Beau’s truck idling, presumably waiting to make sure that he _didn’t_ actually fall over on his way home, and though he felt it was rather unnecessary he appreciated it all the same. He fumbled his keys from his pocket, unlocking his front door as quickly as he could with hands that were still shaking, and, with a quick thank-you wave over his shoulder to Beau, stepped through into his house.

The door shut behind him with a definitive _click_ , the noise of the outside world fading with it.

And then it was just Caleb, and his cat, and the thoughts inside his head.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely art in this chapter was by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/limeyblueart)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **September 2nd!**
> 
> **NOTE FOR FUTURE UPDATES**  
>  I'm going to be starting my new job soon, which means that I won't be able to post updates at 10am GMT/BST as I normally do. Would people prefer for me to post them slightly earlier (closer to 8am GMT/BST) or significantly later (closer to 6pm GMT/BST)? Please let me know in the comments!


	12. Chapter 12

After the wailing of the fire alarms and the rumble of Beau’s truck, the silence inside Caleb’s house was nearly deafening. Frumpkin was still purring but the sound felt distant, now, swamped and drowned out by the memories that came flooding back the moment the door shut behind him. He had nothing to distract himself with now, had no conversations he had to force himself to be present for, or things that he needed to do, or people that he needed to speak to. He was free to do as he wished, and no one would see it.

He was free to open the door, and let the memories out, and give them the space to pull him down and drown him.

Caleb could hear the ringing in his ears, present ever since he had shut the door, starting to rise in pitch and volume. It pressed against his eardrums, echoing through his head until he could barely hear Frumpkin purring against his neck, until the only sound that seemed to exist was the ringing of his ears and the roaring of his blood and the thundering of his heart, picking up pace and starting to beat faster and faster and faster now that he no longer had to put on a mask, no longer had to force himself to stay present and aware, no longer had to _lie_.

“Fuck,” Caleb whispered to himself. He dropped his satchel to one side, leaning back against the door and slowly sliding down it until he was sitting on the floor, lifting his hands to cover his face. He could feel his nails pressing against his skin, seeking and yearning to scratch and bite and make him feel _something_ that was here and now and not a memory from all those years ago. “ _Fuck!_ Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

Distantly, he felt Frumpkin jumping down from his shoulders. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been holding Frumpkin’s leash, or that he’d let go of it, but he must have done because a moment later Frumpkin started pushing against his hands, trying to situate himself between Caleb and his searching, clawing nails, just as he’d been trained. The cat was purring louder now, stretching up to butt his head against Caleb’s chin and stepping up onto his knees, getting as much in Caleb’s space as possible, but Caleb didn’t move. He _couldn’t_. All he could see was fire, roaring and blazing and burning and consuming, and there was gas on his tongue and the back of his throat, filling his lungs until he was choking on it and he could hear his parents, could hear their words from earlier and their terrified screams and it was _his fault, his fault, it is all your fault, you did this to them, Caleb, you deserve what you have now-_

Frumpkin purred louder, somehow managing to push his way between Caleb’s hands. He pressed his face against Caleb’s, shoving his hands out of the way, and started walking back and forth across his lap, twisting and turning so that Caleb never had the space to bring his hands back up to his arms. It was an action that he hadn’t had to perform for a while, not since Rexxentrum, but that knowledge only made Caleb feel worse. That knowledge only made him feel more pathetic.

At the back of his mind, in the little corner where his therapist's words had actually managed to latch and settle, he could hear her voice reminding him that having a reaction like this wasn’t pathetic. That it was perfectly understandable to be affected by this sort of situation – hell, even if he hadn’t been through what he had, it would still be understandable to be feeling at least somewhat nervous. Even _Beau_ was probably feeling nervous. It made sense. It was fine. It wasn’t pathetic.

But it felt it.

In his pocket, Caleb felt his phone starting to buzz, but he ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right then, _couldn’t_ talk to anyone right then. It was hard enough keeping himself in one piece, keeping himself focused and his hands in Frumpkin’s fur so that he didn’t go back to clawing at his own skin, trying to dig out splinters that didn’t exist. His phone buzzed once, and then twice, and then fell silent, much to Caleb’s relief. He didn’t like the sensation of it buzzing. It felt sharp, vicious and prickly against his thigh and he hated it, hated the pressure of it there, hated the shape of his phone pressing against his leg and it was so fucking stupid but he needed it out of his pocket, needed it _gone_ , needed it to be far, far away from him so that he could ignore the weight of social responsibility that it carried. If he didn’t have his phone then he _couldn’t_ feel guilty about missing texts. If he didn’t have his phone then he couldn’t feel guilty about not picking up if someone tried to ring him, or about not ringing or texting someone else to assure them that he was fine when he so definitely wasn’t.

In a sharp, sudden movement, Caleb reached past Frumpkin and started scrabbling at his pocket, digging his phone out with hands made clumsy by panic and fear and the weight of too many memories swirling through his skull at once. He could- he couldn’t _fucking_ handle the idea of having his phone on him, he just couldn’t, it made him too available to be reached when all he wanted to do was get his legs to fucking work, and stand up, and go to his room and weather the storm that was passing in his brain. He just wanted the world to stop. He just wanted his thoughts to stop.

Caleb’s fingers brushed against the smooth surface of his phone. He tugged it free, and was just about to drop it to the floor beside him when the screen lit up and, in his hand, it started to ring. Caleb felt anger and frustration and anguish and panic rise through him all at once, but every single negative emotion fell away the moment he read the words on the screen.

> **_Incoming phonecall from:_ ** _Caduceus Clay :)_

Quite suddenly, every voice in Caleb’s brain that insisted that he didn’t want to talk to anyone fell silent. He still didn’t _want_ to talk to anyone, not really, didn’t want to have to deal with that heavy, cloying weight of social obligation, but Caduceus wasn’t ‘anyone’. Caduceus was okay.

Caduceus was safe.

Caleb fumbled with his phone, swiping to accept the call with trembling, shaking fingers. He lifted the phone to his ear, practically holding his breath as he waited for Caduceus to speak.

There was a short pause.

“ _Hey_ ,” Caduceus said, and Caleb nearly sobbed at the warmth and calm that flooded through him just from hearing Caduceus’ voice. Caduceus sounded so, so good – he always did, always _had_ , but now more than ever Caleb adored the sound of his voice, adored the smoothness and the gentleness and the calming, easy cadence of it even when it was distorted and made crackly by the phone connection. “ _Are you there, Caleb?”_

Caleb nodded, swallowing down the panic still rising in his throat. “ _Ich-_ ,” he croaked, “ _Ich-_ I am, _ja_. I am here.”

“ _Ah, that’s good,_ ” Caduceus replied. “ _I just wanted to call and check that you were doing alright. You hadn’t seen any of my texts – which I’m not blaming you for, of course, we’re both busy – but then Nott texted me to let me know there was a fire at the museum, and then Beau texted me asking me to maybe call you if at all possible. She sounded pretty concerned.”_

“She- did she?” Caleb couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t fathom why Beau had looked at him, and seen his face, and his shaking his hands, and the panic in his eyes, and had decided out of everyone to call Caduceus.

On the other end of the line, Caduceus hummed quietly. It was a soft sound of acknowledgement, well-known and familiar to Caleb. He knew that sound. He knew how it felt in his bones, echoed through his side by Caduceus’ body. “ _Mm, yeah, she did. I don’t- I don’t want to be a bother, though, so if this isn’t a good time or you’d rather be alone just say the word, and I’ll-”_

“ _No_ ,” Caleb interrupted quickly. Gods, he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to be alone at all, he didn’t want to lose this single, tiny strand of connection between himself and Caduceus. “No, _nein_ , you can- please, you can keep talking, this is- this is good. This is good.”

“ _Oh! Oh, that’s really good to know. Alright then. Are you doing alright, though? I feel I should, ah, establish how things are going, especially after what Miss Beau told me. Make sure that everything is copacetic with you, you know?”_

“I’m- _”_ Caleb started automatically, feeling the words _I’m fine_ queuing up on his tongue, and then fell silent. He swallowed the words back down, absently running the fingers of his free hand through Frumpkin’s fur. “I am- I- I’m…” Caleb trailed off, lifting his free hand from Frumpkin’s back to press it against his forehead. “I’m-” _Fine_ , he wanted to say. _I’m fine, I’m alright, please do not worry about me because I do not need it, you should not be worrying about me, you should be worrying about someone else who needs your kindness more than I do._

_I’m **fine**_ **.**

Caleb swallowed. “I’m not alright,” he whispered. His words were near-silent, only just managing to be picked up by the phone, but they were there all the same. He’d said them. He’d admitted to it. And Caduceus had heard. “I am- I am really not alright, Caduceus, I am- _Ich- Ich bin-_ there was- at the museum, there was a- a- and I am not alright, I really am not, I am so sorry, I’m so sorry, I do not mean to be like this but I am- I am-”

“ _Woah, woah, woah, hey_ ,” Caduceus interrupted and Caleb gasped, gulping for air as his lungs burned in the wake of his sudden outpouring. “ _Hey_ ,” Caduceus said again. “ _Hey, come on, it’s okay, you’re safe, it’s okay_.”

“I _know_ ,” Caleb managed to say, feeling like he was forcing the words around his jagged desperate breaths. “I know I am safe, Caduceus, I am- I am home, and it is- I have Frumpkin. I know I am safe.” He had to be safe. He _had_ to be. And he knew that he was, that there was nothing here to be afraid of, because he’d had the wiring and heating and plumbing checked the first day he’d moved in, and because Frumpkin was still sitting calm and quiet in his lap, giving no indication that anything was amiss. If Frumpkin had noticed anything, if he’d smelled anything, he would have let Caleb know.

Caleb was safe, and he knew that he was.

“ _That’s good,”_ Caduceus was saying, sounding relieved at Caleb’s immediate agreement and understanding, _That’s very good. And you’re going to keep on being safe here, yeah? This is a good space for you?”_

Caleb nodded, not caring that Caduceus couldn’t see it. Physical action helped. Moving helped. Moving helped to ground him in this world, in this life, far away from the memories that plagued his skull. “ _Ja,_ ” he confirmed quietly. “I am- this is good.” He paused, and then added at a low mutter, “It is much better than the museum, at least.”

Caduceus gave a short, warm laugh. “ _Oh, yeah, I guess that’s true. I hope the museum isn’t too bad – it would be a real shame to see some of the stuff we’ve collected over the years go_.”

Caleb frowned, shifting uncomfortably as Caduceus spoke. He didn’t think that Caduceus was doing it intentionally, but every mention of the museum, of the fire or the panic or the potential for loss and ruin only pulled Caleb further back to the memories waiting in his head, touching fire against the back of his spine and making him tremble as his breath came shorter. He didn’t want to be an annoyance, didn’t want to dictate and demand that Caduceus only say certain things, but he had to. He knew that Caduceus didn’t mean any harm, but this, right now, wasn’t helping. This wasn’t good for him.

He licked his lips, swallowing to wet his dry throat. _I can ask for this_ , he told himself. _This is alright. This is allowed_. “Um… Caduceus?”

Immediately, Caduceus paused. “ _Yeah_?”

“Can we… if it alright, could we please not talk about the museum?”

“ _Oh!_ ” Caleb heard Caduceus’ soft exclamation, heard the immediate worry and concern held within it, and felt his heart soften slightly. “ _Oh, yeah, of course. I’m sorry about that, I’m not really sure what I’m doing. If I’m honest, I don’t actually know what I’m meant to be doing in this sort of… well, this sort of situation at all. Sorry about that._ ”

Caleb gave a short huff of laughter at that. “That is alright,” he replied. “I do not- I know how to get myself out of these moments, I just… having someone to talk to me can help sometimes.” _Sometimes_. Not always. Not often. Caleb hated seeming weak, hated having to rely on other people for something that he should be able to do himself, because this was _his_ brain, and _his_ problem, and _his_ issue to solve. He should be strong enough to do it on his own. He should be strong enough for this to never have happened to begin with.

But, of course, it had. It had happened, and now he was here, sitting on the floor of his hallway with his cat in his lap and his co-worker, his _friend,_ on the other end of the phone.

“ _Where are you right now?”_ Caduceus asked, jolting Caleb out of the start of what he knew to be a spiral towards self-loathing. “ _Beau said that she got you home, yeah?_ ”

Caleb nodded, squeezing his phone like a lifeline. “ _Ja, ja_ , I am- I am home. I am just inside the door.”

“ _Alright, that’s good. And you’re talking, too, which seems like a good sign.”_

“It- it is. I have- I know how to calm myself, it just- it can take time.”

When Caduceus spoke again, Caleb could hear the smile in his voice. He knew that smile. He knew how soft it was, how gentle it was, how understanding it was. “ _That’s alright_ ,” Caduceus said quietly. “ _I’m not going anywhere_. _I’ll be here for as long as you need me._ ”

And, true to his word, Caduceus was. He continued to talk to Caleb as the minutes passed, speaking to him as Caleb did his breathing exercises and quickly picking up on them, mirroring them from his end of the call. He talked to him as Caleb stood on shaky legs, talked to him as Caleb made his way through the kitchen, encouraged him to drink a glass of water and then figured out something simple and easy that Caleb could make for dinner when Caleb admitted that, although he could see the contents of his fridge, he couldn’t really process them. Caduceus didn’t seem to mind that. He didn’t seem to mind anything, actually. He didn’t mind when Caleb suddenly fell silent as another surge of fire-hung memories came roaring back to him, didn’t mind when Caleb occasionally lapsed into Zemnian, didn’t mind Caleb’s anxiety or his panic or his constant, ceaseless apologies. He just talked, and listened, and encouraged Caleb when he needed encouragement or comforted him when he needed comfort. There were no questions, beyond the occasional ask of what Caleb normally did in these situations. Caduceus never once pried into Caleb’s past, never once asked for more specific details on what caused this, or if something like this had happened before. He just helped.

And Caleb loved him for it.

The thought left his head as quickly as it arrived, not lingering for long enough for Caleb to even really notice its presence. He hadn’t noticed a lot of things while they’d been having their phone call, actually – he hadn’t noticed a number of little thoughts that his mind had presented, hadn’t noticed the sky growing darker outside his windows. He didn’t know how much time passed while they were on the phone, either. He didn’t know how long it had been since the fire, not really. He knew, somewhere in the logical part of his brain that had never entirely stopped working, that it had been nearly the end of the work day when he had seen the fire in the window, and he knew that the late autumn sky had already been growing dark by the time he arrived home, but he wasn’t processing it. His brain couldn’t get a handle on the information, couldn’t piece it together the way it was normally so very good at. The facts just existed, leaving Caleb to stare at them as though they were in a different language altogether. The fire had happened. Time had passed. Caduceus had called him. And now, some unspecified length of time later, Caduceus was talking to him as he slowly changed from his work clothes into his pyjamas, his phone long since put on speaker.

“ _-and get yourself comfortable, if you can_ ,” Caduceus was saying as Caleb returned to his bed, climbing up onto it and settling down beneath the blankets, his phone still held in one hand. “ _It’s getting kind of late, and sleep is good for healing, both physical and mental. It’s like dusting for your brain, or something like that_.”

“I’m comfortable,” Caleb confirmed quietly, before the second part of what Caduceus had said made itself known in his still-exhausted mind. He paused for a moment, quickly figuring out approximately when in the day it was, and felt a surge of guilt wash over him when he realised just how much time had elapsed. _Fuck_. Gods, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been talking to Caduceus for literal hours. He hadn’t even noticed that the sun had long since set, that the stars had long since come out, that he would normally already be in bed by this time and that, in theory, Caduceus would too. “I- _Scheiße_ , Caduceus, I’m sorry, I did not realise how late it was, I didn’t mean to keep you up-”

“ _Hey, hey, it’s alright_ ,” Caduceus interrupted, his voice nothing but warm. “ _Really. I’d rather be awake, knowing that you’re alright, than sleeping and worrying that you’re not doing so good. I don’t mind this. I like it. It’s nice_.”

Caleb couldn’t help but smile at that. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Caduceus, wherever he was staying in Felderwin, likewise lying in bed with his phone next to him, talking to Caleb, not because he had to, but because he _wanted_ to. The thought made something warm settle in Caleb’s chest, lodging just behind his ribs. He liked the warmth. He liked the warmth that he always felt when he was around Caduceus, even if all they were doing was eating lunch on opposite sides of the break room while chatting to the others. Caleb couldn’t actually remember when he’d first noticed the warmth, but he didn’t mind that. It was enough that it was there. It was enough that Caduceus was there.

“If you are sure,” he said quietly, and when Caduceus replied, Caleb felt that he could hear Caduceus’ soft smile.

“ _I’m sure, Caleb,”_ Caduceus said. _“I like talking to you. You know that_.”

“I- _ja_.” He didn’t mention how he didn’t know that. He didn’t mention how he was never, ever, truly sure of if someone found him to be an annoyance or not. He just listened to Caduceus’ words, and thought of the smile on his face, and tried his best to believe that every word he said was true. “I know that. I know that.”

“ _I’m glad to hear that. But if you ever need a reminder, or feel that you don’t know it, I’d be happy to tell you again. It makes me happy when you’re happy, Caleb._ ”

Just for a moment, Caleb shut his eyes. The warmth that had been present in his chest almost since the moment Caduceus first rang him pulsed stronger for a moment, slipping through his veins like sunlight, but when it faded the void it left in its wake was even more unpleasant than before. Caleb didn’t want for there to be void. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to be here, in his quiet, empty, lonely house in Zadash when Caduceus was so very far away in Felderwin. He didn’t want to be able to hear Caduceus but not see him, and even if he could see him, he didn’t want for it to just be over a phone. He wanted Caduceus to be there with him.

Caleb blinked, and felt tears clinging to his lashes. “Caduceus?” he whispered quietly, and in the silence of his bedroom the word hung like thistledown.

“ _Yeah_?”

“…I wish you were here.” He didn’t feel any guilt about admitting that, not right now. His old therapist had reminded him constantly about the importance of a support network, and of asking for help when he needed it, and speaking up about what he wanted and, right now, he wanted that. He wanted Caduceus to be in Zadash again. He wanted Caduceus to be in the museum again.

He wanted Caduceus to be here, in his house, close enough to touch and close enough to hold.

On the other end of the line, Caduceus gave a sigh. The connection turned it into a rush of static, crackling softly around Caleb before it faded back into silence. “ _I know_ ,” he said quietly. “ _I wish I was there, too.”_

Caleb swallowed. He felt raw, worn-out and exhausted, his eyes dried out from crying and his chest aching from the effort of forcing air into his lungs, even past the warmth that had settled in it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t want to be an annoyance, or a nuisance, or any of that.

But, more than anything, he didn’t want to be alone.

Caleb blinked, brushing away tears. On the other end of the phone line he thought he could hear the slow, steady sound of Caduceus breathing and it soothed him somewhat, softening the sharper edges of his nerves. He didn’t want to be an annoyance, but Caduceus told him that he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be a bother, but Caduceus had been the one to contact him. Caduceus had wanted to make sure that he was okay. Caduceus had offered to do all of this.

Caduceus didn’t mind what he was going to say.

Caleb gave a short, shaky sigh. “I wish you were here,” he said again, and heard Caduceus give a quiet hum of understanding. “I don’t- I don’t want to be alone…”

“ _…If it’s any comfort, it’s actually really hard to be alone ever, you know. There’s little creatures everywhere. They’re never very far from you_.”

Despite himself, Caleb laughed. It was watery and weak but it was still real, and as he laughed, he reached up to brush leftovers tears from the corners of his eyes. “ _J-ja_?”

_“Oh, yeah. Like spiders. I can’t remember what the exact statistic is, but you’re never very far from one of those. One of my sisters always thought it was creepy, but I quite liked knowing it. Even when you think you’re alone, you’re not really. There’s always life around you.”_

Caleb laughed again, just as quietly as before. “I- _ja_ , I suppose you have a point with that,” he admitted. He curled up slightly on his bed, holding his phone closer against his chest as though he would be able to feel the warmth of Caduceus through it. Caduceus wasn’t wrong about the spiders, or about there always being some sort of life near him, and Caleb knew that, and he knew that Caduceus was trying to help him and was even succeeding somewhat, but it wasn’t quite the same. Caduceus wasn’t here with him. Caduceus wasn’t holding his hand. Caduceus wasn’t reaching out, and pulling Caleb into a hug, and letting Caleb breathe in the peat-petrichor-tea scent of him.

Caduceus wasn’t there.

Caleb sniffled again, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. Gods, this was pathetic. He knew it was pathetic, knew that he was being pathetic, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts. He just wanted to be near Caduceus. He just wanted Caduceus to be close to him, but Caduceus wasn’t, and he hated it. He hated that Caduceus was so far away. He hated that he would have to wait another few days to see Caduceus again. He hated all of it.

He hated that, the more he thought about it, the more he longed to feel the warmth of Caduceus’ skin against his own.

At the other end of the phone line, there was a soft, static-ey hum. “ _Say, Caleb_?”

“Mm?”

_“Is Frumpkin with you right now?”_

Caleb frowned. That was a bit of an odd question. “Mhm, ja, he always is, you know-”

_“Yeah, yeah, I know that. I was just double checking. Where is he right now?”_

Caleb sat up slightly, peering around the dark room. “He is... ah, there he is. He is at the foot of my bed.”

_“Would he mind if you were to move him?”_

“I don’t think so.”

_“Alright, good. In that case, can you pick Frumps up for me and give him a hug? My fur isn’t quite the same as his, but it’s kinda similar, I think. And you seem to like holding my hand and all that so, maybe, hugging Frumpkin might be similar enough to help soothe you somewhat.”_

Caleb actually felt himself start to smile at that, even as his face started to flush slightly. He hadn’t realised that his fondness for holding Caduceus’ hand had been so apparent, but it was hard to feel bad about it right then. Caduceus didn’t seem to mind. Caduceus didn’t seem to mind at all.

“I… okay,” Caleb said quietly. He sat up in bed, carefully placing the phone down on the pillow next to him. “I will, um… one moment, _bitte_.”

At the other end of the line, Caduceus gave a short, warm laugh. “ _Of course,”_ he said. “ _There’s no rush, Caleb_.”

Deep inside his chest, Caleb felt a little more warmth reach out to start to spread through his body. His smile widened slightly as he kneeled upright awkwardly on his bed, peering down to the end of it. Frumpkin was curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed but he perked his head up the moment Caleb sat up, turning to look at him, and when Caleb shuffled down the bed and picked him up a moment later, he didn’t resist. Caleb lifted the cat to his chest, slowly moving back up the bed to lie down again; Frumpkin didn’t try to get away, instead staying soft and relaxed in Caleb’s arms as, quietly, he started to purr. Caleb could feel Frumpkin’s purr spreading through his body, could feel it humming through his ribcage, and it was so, so close to the steady, deep rumble of Caduceus’ voice. It was comforting in its similarity, as was Frumpkin’s fur when Caleb started gently running his fingers through it, petting his cat in long, steady strokes. It didn’t at all feel like Caduceus was there, but it was close. It was enough.

Caleb gave a little sigh, shutting his eyes just for a moment. Gods, but he wanted Caduceus to be there. He wanted Caduceus to be there more than he’d wanted almost anything in his entire life. He had Frumpkin, and he loved Frumpkin, was ceaselessly glad to have his service cat in his life, but Frumpkin wasn’t the same. Frumpkin was wonderfully well trained, and had, in all honesty, done just as much – if not more – than Caduceus when it came to calming Caleb down, but Caleb wanted Caduceus anyway. He wanted Caduceus to be there, and not just on the other end of the phone. He wanted it to be Caduceus’ fur beneath his fingers, wanted it to be Caduceus’ voice rumbling through his bones and warming his chest. He wanted Caduceus to be in Zadash. He wanted Caduceus to be close enough to touch.

Caleb opened his eyes, and the first thing that he saw was his alarm clock, standing on his bedside table. It was a cheap old thing, rendered more or less obsolete by his phone, but he liked having it by his bed all the same. He liked seeing the time in clear, glowing red letters when he woke up from a nightmare, reassuring him that his internal sense of time was just as accurate as it had ever been. It was comforting, reassuring in a way that he would be hard-pressed to explain. He just liked having it there.

In the darkness of his room, the numbers glowed like a banked fire.

 _00:30_ , they read, and something in Caleb’s brain saw the numbers, and recognised them. _The shipping forecast_. He’d never stayed up late enough to listen to this forecast. He’d listened to the evening one on a few occasions, when his brain had been loud and busy, but it had never felt right to do it without Caduceus. It had never felt right to listen to it without Caduceus by his side.

Caduceus wasn’t there now, but Caleb didn’t care. It was enough, just about, to have him on the phone. It was enough for this to count.

“Caduceus?” Caleb mumbled quietly, his words half-muffled by his pillow.

On the other end of the phone, Caduceus hummed. “ _Mm_?”

“It is, um, it is nearly time for the shipping forecast. If you- if you would like to listen to it.”

_“Oh! Oh, that’s nice, but I’d be happy to miss it tonight, Caleb. I’d rather talk to you.”_

Caleb felt the corners of his mouth twitch up into a tiny, weak facsimile of a smile. “I thought- this is a stupid idea, I’m sorry-”

_“No, no, what is it?”_

Caleb swallowed. “I thought,” he started, “I thought we could, if you wanted, listen to it together?” It wouldn’t be the first time they’d listened to the shipping forecast together over the phone since Caduceus went to Felderwin, but somehow, for some reason that Caleb couldn’t hope to describe or explain, he felt that what he was asking of Caduceus was indescribably more intimate. Their normal shipping forecast, the lunchtime one, felt casual, almost. It happened during the day, when people were expected to be up and awake, and even with their tea and their hand-holding they still could never forget that they were in the mycology department at a museum where they both worked. It was special, because it was theirs, but it wasn’t intimate.

This was.

This was Caduceus seeing Caleb right down to his core, and accepting it. This was Caduceus hearing all of Caleb’s panic, and seeing the awful, shattering aftermath of his fear, and not caring for the mess, and helping as much as he could all the way in Felderwin. This was both of them sitting in the quiet and the dark, miles apart but so impossibly close.

This was them sharing together in the soft, tender hours of the night, and whatever moment they created would only ever be theirs.

 _“I’d like that,”_ Caduceus said softly, and at the sound of his voice Caleb’s entire chest pulsed with warmth.

He smiled. “ _Ja_?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Caduceus echoed. “ _I’d like that a lot, Caleb.”_

“We will, ah, it starts in only a few minutes- _”_

“ _That’s alright, I’ve got the website saved. Why don’t you set your stuff up while I set mine up, hmm?”_

That sounded sensible. “Alright,” Caleb said, and then, with slow, careful movements, he stood up from bed.

It was the work of a moment for Caleb to fish his laptop out of his satchel and set it up on the pillow next to him, his web browser open to the correct page. At the other end of the phone he could hear faint noises as Caduceus presumably went through similar motions, and after a minute or so, they were both ready. Caleb lay back down on his bed, curling up around his phone as he waited for the numbers on his alarm clock to change.

For a moment, all there was to hear was the voice of the radio presenter for the previous show, and then they fell silent as the clock ticked over to 00:32.

There was a pause.

 _“This is Dwendalian Radio 4,”_ said a steady, calm voice from out of the silence. _“Now, here’s the shipping forecast as issued by the Met Department, on behalf of the Greater Wildemount Maritime and Coastguard Agency at 00:32, today. There are warnings of gales in Everplume, Torrid, Twinsward, Zoon, Grave, Brokenbank, and Mother’s Sigh. The general synopsis at 18:00. Low Panall 981 expected Dragshallow by 18:00 today. The area forecast for the next 24 hours. Everplume, Torrid: southerly or south-easterly 5 to 7, occasionally gale 8 at first, then decreasing 4 at times. Thundery showers, moderate or good, occasionally poor. Bisaft: cyclonic 3 to 5, occasionally 6, thundery showers, good, occasionally poor. Twinsward, Zoon:…”_

Caleb shut his eyes as the familiar pattern washed over him. It wasn’t as comforting as Caduceus’ voice had been, not on its own, but the act of listening to the shipping forecast at the same time as Caduceus, no matter where Caduceus was, made the last sparking embers in his mind flicker and fade, settling back down into silence as the seconds passed. Caleb could still hear Caduceus breathing and moving through the phone, occasionally hearing a faint echo of the shipping forecast from his end of the call, and it reminded him of the numerous times they’d sat together in the mycology department, with the extractor fans humming quietly beneath the sound of the radio.

Unthinkingly, Caleb lifted a hand and rested it on the pillow next to the phone, his fingers curling and flexing around nothing. In his mind, he remembered sunlight turning steam into a fine golden mist and gilding the soft pink of Caduceus’ hair and scruff. He remembered a mug patterned with beetles, and a mug patterned with ferns, and sky-blue tea tins printed with snowdrops. He remembered the warmth of Caduceus against his thigh, against his hand, his ears swish-swishing as they sat together, and drank tea together, and listening to the shipping forecast together, and existed together.

Caleb felt his fingertips brushing against his own palm, and wished more strongly than ever that Caduceus could be there with him.

Eventually, as the shipping forecast always did, it came to an end. The radio announcer spoke the last few words, wrapping up the broadcast, and Caleb heard the air fall silent, interrupted only by a few soft crackles of static.

“ _…That was nice_ ,” Caduceus said unexpectedly out of the silence. His voice seemed quieter than before, thoughtful and almost reverent. “ _That was… yeah, that was nice. I liked that. It felt different.”_

 _“_ It did,” Caleb agreed quietly. “It felt…” _Closer. Better. More intimate._ “…good.”

“ _Felt kind of like we were back at the museum, didn’t it?”_

“A bit, _ja_.” Caleb lapsed into silence, frowning to himself. It _had_ felt like they were back at the museum, just a little bit. It had held that same sense of safety, of closeness, of calm and relaxation and comfort that Caleb rarely found anywhere else.

It just hadn’t had Caduceus there, holding his hand by his side.

Caleb cleared his throat quietly, feeling words building up on the back on his tongue. He didn’t know what words they were. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He just knew that, whatever it was, he had to say it. Whatever it was, he needed Caduceus to hear it. “…Caduceus?” he said quietly.

Caduceus hummed. “ _Mm_?”

“…Come back soon, please. I miss you.”

Caduceus didn’t even hesitate. “ _I will,”_ he said. Caleb shut his eyes, drawing the blankets up over himself and curling further still around his phone. _“I promise. I miss you, too.”_

“I-… _”_

_“What?”_

“…Nothing.” Caleb didn’t know what he had been meaning to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, didn’t know if he wanted to say anything at all. He was tired, and comfortable, and more than anything he wanted to sleep, but he also didn’t want to be left alone. He didn’t want to stop talking to Caduceus.

Well… no, not quite that. He didn’t want to stop listening to Caduceus’s voice. He didn’t want to lose what little connection he had with him right now.

“Would you talk to me?” Caleb asked, and part of him hated himself for how pathetic he sounded saying that, but most of him just didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He was so tired, was so worn out, but he couldn’t sleep, not yet. If he tried to sleep, if he ended this phone call and forced himself to lie still and wait for slumber, he knew that he would be waiting all night. Sleep never liked to come to him on days like this. Sleep never liked to let him rest easy, not when his past had the perfect silence of night to play in.

But not tonight. Tonight, if Caduceus was willing, Caleb would not be giving his past that silence to explore.

“ _Oh, sure, I can do that,”_ Caduceus replied immediately. Caleb couldn’t help his smile – it was small, barely more than a quirk of his lips, and there was no one around to see it save for his cat, but Caleb didn’t care. It mattered. It counted. _“What do you want me to say?”_

“Anything.” _Everything_. “Whatever you would like to say.” _Distract me_.

For a few moments, Caduceus was silent. “… _Well_ ,” Caduceus said eventually, the word slow and thoughtful, _“did you know that the museum in Felderwin has this really great felines exhibit open right now?”_

Caleb shook his head, feeling his cheek rub against the smooth fabric of his pillow. It didn’t feel as nice as Caduceus velvet-fine fur. Nothing felt as nice as that. “ _Nein_ , I didn’t know that.”

_“Ah, that’s a shame. You would really like it, I think. They had this great display showing the skeletal changes of felines between species, sort of scaling them up. It went right from a little Frumpkin-sized domesticated cat right up to one of the big cats. A tiger, I think it was. I’m not sure. I got some pictures of it for you, actually – I sent them earlier, I don’t know if you saw them. I saw it and sorta thought ‘huh, you know what? I think Caleb would like this.' I could take you one day, if you’d like.”_

Caleb smiled. “I would like that,” he said quietly. “I would like that quite a lot.” He gave a small yawn, reaching down to tug his blankets up higher, entirely cocooning himself in warmth as Frumpkin purred against his chest. “Mm, keep talking?”

Caduceus laughed quietly, and Caleb felt himself smile wider. He loved Caduceus’ laugh. He loved Caduceus’ voice. He loved everything about him. “ _Sure_ ,” Caduceus said softly, his voice achingly, wonderfully fond. “ _Sure, Caleb. I can do that_.”

And he did.

He told Caleb about what he’d done at the museum that day, about the people he’d spoken to and the preservation techniques he’d learned from the Felderwin mycology department, and he told Caleb about the tiny, tucked-away tea shop that he’d found at lunch that he’d like to take Caleb to one day. He told Caleb how he’d already got little presents for most of their friends – buttons in the shape of cartoon rabbit skulls for Nott; an enamel pin in the shape of a bunch of forget-me-nots for Yasha; a cookbook of historical pastry recipes for Jester – and how he’d got something for Caleb, too, though he didn’t tell him what it was. Caleb didn’t mind not knowing, and he didn’t press Caduceus to tell him. He was surprised enough to find out that Caduceus had got him anything at all, and beyond that he was simply tired. Speaking up, finding the energy for longer conversation, just wasn’t something that he felt capable of doing right then. It was easier, was more comfortable, to just lie curled in bed, and feel Frumpkin’s fur beneath his hand, and listen to the sound of Caduceus’ voice.

Slowly, gradually, Caleb felt sleep starting to steal over him. He kept his eyes open for as long as he could, staring into the soft darkness of his bedroom, but Caduceus’ voice was gentle and calm, soothing him further towards slumber, and barely a few minutes went by before he felt his lids starting to droop. He let them. He didn’t have any reason not to, and with them shut it was strangely easier to imagine that Caduceus was right there next to him, lying in Caleb’s bed as he spoke calmly and quietly about his day and the things that he had seen. Caleb smiled at that thought. He liked that fantasy. He really liked the fantasy. He snuggled down a bit further under his blankets, gently squeezing Frumpkin in his arms. Here, now, he didn’t have the energy to stop his mind following those thoughts. He didn’t have the energy to tell himself that he didn’t love spending time with Caduceus, that he didn’t love hearing Caduceus’ voice, that he didn’t have feelings for Caduceus, because he did. He knew that he did. He still wasn’t sure exactly what the feelings where, didn’t know where they fell on the scale of fondness to love, but they were on the scale somewhere. He knew that much. He liked Caduceus, more than a friend and more than a co-worker. He liked him so, so much more than that.

In the soft and dark of the night, where there was no one to lie to and no one to deceive, Caleb shut his eyes, and let himself imagine. He let himself imagine Caduceus being here, now, in his life and in his home, his warm voice not broken up and distorted by static but instead loud and clear. He let himself imagine Caduceus hugging him, holding him close and tight against his chest, squeezing him hard enough that Caleb could almost feel all the left-over, still-broken pieces of himself being pushed back together.

He let himself imagine Caduceus in his bed, pressed warm and comfortable against his back with an arm thrown over his waist as the shipping forecast played off one of their laptops.

He let himself imagine Caduceus pressing small kisses to the back of his neck, his breath brushing softly against his skin, not expectant or wanting but simply there, present and close and perfect. He let himself imagine that being normal, expected, _wanted_. He let himself imagine falling asleep like that, with Caduceus by his side and Frumpkin by his feet.

He let himself imagine kissing Caduceus.

Behind his shut lids, in the perfect unreality of his longing, Caleb hoped.

He couldn’t deny his feelings any longer. He couldn’t ignore the warmth in his chest that arose every single time he saw Caduceus, for however long, for whatever reason. He had been stupid about his feelings for a while now, and he knew that, but he wasn’t going to blame himself too much. His therapist wouldn’t want that. These feelings were not the same feelings he had once harboured for Astrid, but he realised now that they didn’t have to be. Fondness, affection, adoration… they changed in their expression from person to person, but Caleb knew that they were there, now. He knew that he felt them.

He knew that he liked Caduceus.

He knew that he liked Caduceus a lot.

Distantly, he could still hear Caduceus speaking, but his voice seemed muffled as though through velvet. Caleb could pick up on his words if he focused, could hear him talking about things he’d seen at the museum that Caleb might like, or about a new species of mushroom that had been discovered, or about a walk along the Felderwin canals that he would like to show Caleb one day, but focusing was effort and energy, and Caleb had little of either. It was easier to let his mind relax, and lie warm and soft and comfortable in the embrace of his blankets with Frumpkin snoring gently against his chest, and think with fondness of the voice on the other end of the line.

Caleb pushed his memories aside, and thought of Caduceus, and slept.

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful art in this chapter was done by [beansmakesart](http://beansmakesart.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **September 9th!**


	13. Chapter 13

Despite everything, Caleb slept peacefully that night. He fell asleep at some uncertain, unplaceable hour of the morning, lulled to slumber by the soft sound of Caduceus’ voice on the pillow next to him. His mind didn’t trouble him with dreams or nightmares, didn’t dive back into memories of this fire, or the one from his past, or wake him to recollections of the _click click click_ -ing of the gas stove in his family home. His thoughts were quiet and peaceful; comforting, and familiar, and warm, and _safe_.

When Caleb woke to the sound of his phone alarm, it was to fading thoughts of the softness of grey fur and pink hair beneath his fingers, and the gentle sound of Caduceus’ voice speaking to him from the other side of the bed. He fumbled his phone alarm off, still half-asleep, and spent a few minutes simply lying in the darkness of his bedroom, looking up at his ceiling. He could just about hear Frumpkin snoring down at the foot of his bed – he could only assume that, at some point during the night, Frumpkin had slipped out of the cuddle and made his way somewhere that he could stretch – and beyond the walls of his bedroom all the world seemed soft and silent, as if it were cocooning him from the memories of yesterday.

But, of course, it could not blanket him forever, and slowly, gradually, Caleb remembered just what his alarm was for.

It was a weekday. And that meant that it was a work day.

And that meant, he realised with a dawning, creeping fear, that he would be expected to go into work.

But, gods, he didn’t want to. He awfully, terribly, _desperately_ didn’t want to, not when the memory of the previous day was still so bright and so sharp in his mind. He had no idea if the museum was even open given the events of yesterday, had no idea if he would be needed to show up, or if Fjord or Mr Mercer would contact him, or if the fire was so small that it was alright, or anything like that, but the part of his mind that had forced him to stay at Rexxentrum for as long as he had out of some warped sense of responsibility over his own health insisted that he would be needed there. The fire had been in the other wing, after all, and it looked like the fire system had caught it quickly. The museum was probably fine. His office was probably fine. Sure, it had been a fire, but it had only been a little one. It was fine. He was fine.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

With shaking hands, Caleb reached for his phone on his bedside table, quickly unlocking it and navigating to the screen he needed. It was still early enough that he could ring Fjord, he felt – he still had several hours until he needed to be at work, and if he rang to tell Fjord that he wouldn’t be able to come in and Fjord said that he had to, then he’d have those hours to pummel his brain into something approaching functioning. He’d have the time to process, and focus, and prepare himself for a day of interacting with people in the same place where fire had once dwelled.

He _could_ go into work. He was physically capable of it, no questions asked – he hadn’t been hurt at all yesterday, hadn’t left anything important behind in his office, and if the museum was open enough to require him to come in, then he could. He was capable of doing that. He’d done it before, back in Rexxentrum – not for events as serious and significant as yesterdays, but plenty of times he’d pushed himself into work in the wake of panic attacks, or in the midst of overwhelming anxiety, because he knew that he could. Because he knew that he was meant to. Because he knew that, if he didn’t, if he used his sick leave to coddle himself, Astrid wouldn’t be impressed, and her sharp, brilliant, quick wit would be turned on him. He could go into work. He knew that he could. The only thing holding him back was the fear that clung to his mind like settled ash, slipping between his thoughts like tongues of seeking flame.

Carefully, slowly, Caleb opened Fjord’s contact page. He’d had his details for a while but had never had reason to call him, or even text him. Hells, he barely did now. This was stupid. This was _pointless_. He was a grown man; he should be better than this. He should be over this one thing that happened in his past, should be better than the anxiety in his head and the fear in his heart. He was a grown man who needed a fucking _cat_ just to function in new environments because he wasn’t strong enough to get over himself and _move on,_ and he was getting enough special treatment just from being allowed to have Frumpkin at work, and he didn’t need anything else to mark him out as weird and annoying and _other_. He didn’t need anything else for people to dislike him for.

Caleb hesitated, his finger just above the call button. Was there really any point in doing this? Would Fjord find it annoying? Caleb _was_ a grown man, after all, and for as rough and dissociated as he’d been yesterday, he’d got past it with Caduceus’ help. He’d eaten, and drank some water, and had gone to bed far later than he normally did on a work night, but he’d actually slept, and he’d slept _well_. He hadn’t been disturbed by nightmares, or by worries of his own home catching alight, or by fears for his friends. He’d just slept, comfortably and calmly, and any tiredness that he was experiencing right now was due to the fact that he’d gone to bed late and the remnant exhaustion of yesterday’s fear. He was alright now. He was fine. He didn’t need to be this annoying weakling, frustrating anyone just because he wasn’t strong enough to deal with what was in his own head. He didn’t need to be a liability.

_Gods, Caleb, it’s just a candle. Get over yourself already. Stop being so weak and annoying_.

Caleb grit his teeth, and squeezed his phone in his hand. He _knew_ that was a bad thought, knew it to be incorrect, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it all the same. He’d been going to assorted therapists for a number of years now, and for a number of reasons, but this reason was one of the newer ones, and the pathways in his mind still tended to fall back into the old patterns of self-doubt and self-judgement. He knew that, given his past and the events of yesterday, it was entirely reasonable to request some time off. He knew that Fjord, who understood in vague terms why he had a service animal, would understand that. He knew that he would be alright to call Fjord.

He just had to believe it.

Caleb stabbed the ‘call’ button with his finger before he could talk himself out of it again, and lifted his phone to his ear. Above the anxious racing of his heart he could hear the phone ringing, and after a few seconds it connected with a quiet _click_.

“ _Yeah?_ ” asked a familiar, accented voice.

Caleb drew in a breath. “Um, _hallo,_ ” he said. “This is, ah this is Caleb Widogast.”

“ _Oh! Oh, hey, Caleb. You’re calling kind of early.”_

“Uh, _ja_ , I know.” Caleb pulled a face to himself as he spoke, shifting awkwardly from side to side. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be having this conversation. But he needed to. “I was just, ah, I was just calling to let you know that- that I- I do not think that I will be able to, um, to come into-”

_“Into work?”_ Fjord finished for him. Caleb nodded, drawing in a long trembling breath. This was fine. He _knew_ this was fine. Beauregard had outright told him yesterday that no one was going to expect him to be back at work immediately, that it was likely that no one _would_ be back at work immediately, that they all understood the importance of mental health, and taking time off, and all of that sort of stuff, but all the same he felt horribly, awfully anxious about it. He didn’t want to annoy Fjord. He didn’t want to demand special treatment for shit in his brain that he should be strong enough to overcome, and he knew that that was an equally awful thought to have, and that it wasn’t really true, but it was a thought that he had all the same. He didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t want to annoy anyone the way he had once unknowingly annoyed Astrid.

But he had to ask for this. He _had_ to. For as bad as this was, for as awful as it felt to have to ask for time off so that he could deal with what was inside his head, he knew that the alternative was far, far worse. The alternative was returning to the museum, and seeing the ashes, and smelling the soot, and experiencing every moment that the previous day had to offer all over again.

Except, this time, there was no guarantee that Caduceus would be there on the phone to calm Caleb’s mind.

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb said. “ _Ich- ja_. That. I do not- after yesterday- I was…”

Fjord gave a short, quiet laugh. “ _Caleb_ ,” he said, “ _After yesterday, I’m really not expecting anyone to be coming into work at all for a little while. It was a fuckin’ weird and stressful day for all of us, and we still haven’t cleared the whole place. People are welcome to come to the museum if they want to, but until we know the place is structurally secure and all, we can’t let you do anything. You’d just be hangin’ about outside. We’re not lettin’ visitors in, either.”_

“…Oh.”

That… ridiculously, that hadn’t actually been the answer that Caleb had been expecting, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. There _had_ been a fire. He knew that, had seen it with his own two eyes, but in all the panic and dissociation of yesterday he’d never once stopped to consider what that would mean for the next few days. Of course they wouldn’t let people immediately return to work. Of course they wouldn’t just let people back inside the building when less than 24 hours had passed. Of course they would wait, and be sensible, and make sure that the place was safe and secure before they even _considered_ letting their employees enter the workspace again. Fjord and Mr Mercer were both, for the most part, sensible individuals, even though Caleb had, by now, heard a fair few stories about Fjord being a little less sensible than he seemed. But despite that, Caleb knew that Fjord and Mr Mercer both cared about the museum, and about the well-being of their employees, and they weren’t going to let people come to unnecessary harm.

Caleb shifted a little, tapping the fingers of one hand against his leg. “I am- okay,” he managed to say. He swallowed, tasting memories of ash and smoke on the back of his throat, and, before he could stop himself, heard himself say, “How bad- how bad was it?”

_How much is still left_?

Fjord gave a sigh, the connection turning it to a quiet roar of static and crackles. “ _Well_ ,” he started, “ _it’s not- I mean it’s not great, no fire is ever going to be great, but it’s … it’s alright. That’s probably the best way to describe it. The fire system caught it pretty quick and there wasn’t much in those rooms. We’re having people in today to try and figure out what caused it, and then we’ve gotta start lookin’ into repairs and all that, but the main building and your wing weren’t touched. Couple of days and we should be able to re-open most of the building while keeping part of that wing closed off, so you might end up bumpin’ shoulders with the folk from over there, and then we can start fixing it up again. So… yeah, it’s alright. The museum’s going to be alright.”_

“…Oh,” Caleb said again. For some reason, he hadn’t been expecting that response, either. He hadn’t thought much about the state of the museum yesterday, hadn’t been able to past the memories in his head and the panic choking his chest and pulling down his lungs, but when he thought of it now, all he could envision was a smoking, sullen pile of rubble. Even though he’d seen the fire, had seen how small it was and how quickly the building had been evacuated and the fire system activated, his mind still clung fast to the only prior example of such a building fire that he had seen, had _experienced_ , before.

Even now, Caleb could still remember the smouldering, hollowed-out husk of his family home, the beams splintered and collapsed in and the snow hissing as it landed, sending up plumes of steam that mingled with the soot and smoke. He remembered seeing the shell of the building, watching the fire crews run to stop the fire from spreading too far, but above all he remembered the strange, hollow, absolute emptiness he had felt. There had been nothing left. The previous day there had been a house, a _home_ , a place that he adored where he lived with his parents, and now there was nothing more than rubble and smouldering timbers.

And part of Caleb’s mind, for reasons that he felt were altogether obvious, had decided that that would be the outcome of the museum, too.

Except, it seemed, that it wasn’t.

Caleb hummed quietly. He turned around, leaning back against the wall and gently sliding down it until he was sitting, the phone still pressed to his ear. “I- that is-” He coughed. “That is very good, I suppose.”

“ _It’s pretty good, yeah. Could’ve been better, – hells, there could never have been a fire to begin with, that would’ve been just dandy – but really this is one of the better outcomes. No one got injured, all the fire wardens did their job, and y’all evacuated pretty damn quickly, too. We lost a couple of filing cabinets and a few samples which is, if you’d pardon my language, really fucking shit, but lives always come before memories, so I’ll take it._ ”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb muttered. “I- _ja, ja,_ that is very good. That is very good.”

“ _But how about you? You holdin’ up alright? You looked kind of rough yesterday…”_ Fjord let the sentence trail off, leaving the words hanging in the air, and Caleb couldn’t hold back his short, humourless laugh.

_“Ja,”_ he said. _“Ja,_ I suppose I must have.” _Kind of rough_. He supposed that was definitely one way to describe how he had seemed yesterday. If he was honest, he wasn’t actually entire sure of _how_ he’d come across during the fire. It had taken every part of his mental energy to keep himself present enough to _not_ entirely descend into the depths of a panic attack, to keep himself moving and responding and giving at least some semblance of normalcy. How successful he’d been at doing that he didn’t know – even now, his memories of the previous day were fuzzy, edged in soot-black smoke and chased with sparks – but what mattered was that it had been sufficient. He had left the building with all of his items. He hadn’t needed anyone to calm him down from a panic attack. He had spoken to Beau, albeit only barely, and had got a lift home, and had spoken to Caduceus, and he’d been alright.

He’d been alright, and he was alright now.

“I’m fine,” Caleb said, but, unlike yesterday, he actually meant it now. He _was_ fine. He was still somewhat nervous, was still twitchy and uncertain, but it wasn’t all-encompassing the way it had been yesterday. It was manageable now, to the point where he was able to actually get up, and move around, and force himself to make this phone call, even when he didn’t want to. He was alright. He would be alright.

Caleb thought of the museum, and of the snowdrops where the raven lay. He would be alright. This would all be alright.

Fjord gave a short, relieved-sounding sigh. “ _Good_ ,” he said, “ _I’m real glad to hear that, Caleb. Nott and Beau and Jester and all were pretty worried about you, and as… well, as assistant director and all, I figured I should probably check up on you, see how you’re doin’, all that. Make sure that all of my employees are managing alright. ‘Specially ‘cause you’ve got… well… you’ve got Frumpkin.”_

Caleb actually smiled at that. “I do have Frumpkin,” he confirmed. “Frumpkin is also quite alright, in case you are wondering.”

“ _Good, good, that’s… that’s real good, Caleb. And with all of your, uh….”_

“…I am alright, too,” Caleb added after a moment’s pause. “With all my… _ja_. It is alright. Beauregard got me home safely and Caduceus- _ja_ , I am alright. Do not worry about me. But… thank you for asking.”

“ _Alright, good. That’s good to know. But, yeah, listen,”_ Fjord continued, “ _just take the next week off. Take today off as a long weekend and come back Monday after next. Give yourself time to relax while we check on the museum, get everything all good and secure again. Count it as sick leave.”_

“I do not want to be a bother-”

“ _Caleb, it’s no bother at all. Seriously, alright? You’ve gotta look after yourself before you can look after your work. You can’t work well if your head’s being all weird.”_

“But,” Caleb said, hating himself for how automatically he protested, “but the- the others…”

Fjord sighed. “ _Caleb_ ,” he said again, his voice softening, “ _No one is going to blame you for taking the time off, least of all the Asshole Squad. I don’t want to be rude or go pryin’ into your past or whatever, that’s not my place, but we all saw you yesterday, and if it’s any comfort, you’re not the only person who’s going to be takin’ time off. You’re all off work until we get the place checked and cleared – you’re just getting a little somethin’ extra because of, uh, extenuatin’ circumstances. Hell, if it makes it easier I can_ order _you to take time off. I can do that, you know. I am, technically speakin’, your boss._ ”

Caleb smiled a little bit at that. He had known, somewhere at the back of his mind, that Fjord really wouldn’t mind him requesting time off, but it was indescribably relieving to hear him say it himself. Fjord had even been the one to suggest that Caleb take _extra_ time off, after all. This was fine. This was alright.

He was alright.

“Okay,” Caleb said, and he could hear the quiet relief in his own voice. “I- okay, I will do that. Monday after next, you said?”

“ _Yeah, that’s it. I’ll be emailing you all once we’ve got the all-clear from the safety inspection folk, but I don’t want to see you in the office until Monday after next at the_ absolute _earliest, you hear me? And later than that, if it turns out that we need longer to fix the place up. Beau’ll be keeping an eye out, too, so don’t think you can go sneakin’ back in without us noticing. She’ll spot you.”_

Caleb snorted. “Albatross,” he muttered under his breath, and Fjord laughed.

“ _Yeah,”_ he said, _“albatross. And Caleb_?”

“ _Ja_?”

“ _Look after yourself. That’s an order_.”

Caleb smiled, just slightly. “I will do my best,” he said, and they ended the phone call there.

\---

Caleb spent the rest of the day wandering about the house, feeling surprisingly untethered in the absence of anything definitive to do. He was still in a strange headspace, feeling significantly more grounded than he had yesterday, but still a little bit like he was drifting, the occasional memory of fire or sparks slipping through his thoughts as he got dressed, or made lunch, or played with Frumpkin in the sparsely decorated living room. He was grateful that he didn’t have to go into work, undeniably so, but he hadn’t actually been expecting that response, and as such, hadn’t had anything planned to fill his time. He briefly occupied himself with unpacking some of the few remaining boxes from his move into the house, and with browsing some new toys for Frumpkin that he could bring with him to the office that Caduceus’ didn’t already keep in his own desk, but more than once he caught his thoughts wandering, his eyes staring at nothing as, at the back of his head, memories of the fire dancing in the window of the other wing played over and over.

It was around midday that his phone buzzed unexpectedly in his pocket. For a moment Caleb debated ignoring it, still feeling uncertain and shaky around the edges, but then he remembered yesterday, and how wonderful it had been to see Caduceus’ name on his phone screen. For all he knew, this could be Caduceus contacting him again. He pushed his lunch to one side, pulling his phone free and, just how he had yesterday, felt his heart trip at the name displayed on-screen.

> _New Messages from: **Caduceus Clay :)**_
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** hey caleb, I hope you’re doing alright  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I just wanted to check up on you after yesterday, make sure that everything’s good  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** if you need or want to call again just let me know ^-^  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** also I found this fantastic book at the museum library yesterday that I meant to show you. I thought you’d like it  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** [image attached]

Caleb didn’t even hesitate as he tapped the image to see it properly. He’d never been anything less than entirely delighted to receive an image from Caduceus, no matter when he received it, and now was another one of those times. Caduceus always seemed to know the perfect time to send Caleb a picture, seeming to have an uncanny knack for texting Caleb whenever Caleb felt bored, or down, or generally like he missed Caduceus, and he always managed to find things to show Caleb that Caleb genuinely loved, or would find interesting even if he knew nothing about, like with Caduceus’ mycelium slides.

This, though, Caleb knew plenty about.

The book in the image was clearly very old, bound in a worn leather with pages turned yellowed and crackly by time. The title, written across the cover in a gold ink, was so faded as to be practically illegible, but Caleb could just about make it out. He’d had years of experience in handling old and rare books, after all. He knew how to read what wasn’t there.

_The Felines of Tal’dorei, Volume II_

Caleb smiled down at his phone. Gods, but he missed Caduceus. He missed Caduceus, and he missed seeing him, and he missed holding his hand and listening to the shipping forecast and drinking tea with him, missed spending time with him in every possible way, and he was so, so glad that Caduceus had given him his number. He missed Caduceus, and couldn’t wait for him to return to Zadash – whenever that might turn out to be – but he also loved the messages that Caduceus was sending him. He loved that, even when Caduceus was far away, he could still contact him. He loved that, even now, it felt that Caduceus was close to him.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Thank you, Caduceus.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** And I am doing alright. You helped a lot, yesterday. I am doing much better today.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** Though I would not say no to speaking with you again.  
>  **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I always feel calm when I am with you [unsent]

Caleb chewed his lower lip, his thumb hovering over ‘send.’ He was under no impressions now of why he’d written that message without even thinking about it. He knew what he was feeling, knew what he felt for Caduceus; he knew that the warmth in his chest went beyond friendship, and he knew that his desire to spend time with Caduceus was more than just wanting to hang out with a co-worker. He liked Caduceus. He liked Caduceus a lot, and some part of him wanted Caduceus to know that, because, if Caduceus knew, then maybe, by some miracle, Caleb would find out that his feelings were returned. It was a foolish, baseless hope, but it was one that Caleb held all the same. He wanted Caduceus to like him back. He wanted Caduceus to like him the same way that he liked Caduceus, wanted Caduceus to enjoy their shipping forecast sessions as much as he did, wanted Caduceus to, at least some way, share in the feelings that Caleb knew now that he had.

He wanted Caduceus to kiss him.

He wanted Caduceus to know. Even if it turned out that his feelings weren’t returned, some part of him wanted Caduceus to know all the same. Some part of him was speaking up over the anxiety, and the worry, and the concern, and was telling him that even if the feelings weren’t returned, would Caduceus even truly mind? Caduceus had always been soft and gentle and affectionate, not just with Caleb but with _everyone,_ and Caleb couldn’t picture him being in any way rude or unpleasant about this. Caduceus had always been willing to give whatever affection someone wanted, be it a hug or a pat on the shoulder or a kiss to the top of the head or kind words when they needed them most or a shoulder to cry on. He had always been pleasant. He had always been kind. He had always been understanding.

And, Caleb realised, if Caduceus were able to deduce his feelings from this one simple text, then he probably knew them already. Caleb’s perfect memory couldn’t let him forget the time that they’d spent together. He couldn’t forget the hand holding, or the lingering glances, of the closeness of the hug that they’d shared before Caduceus had left for Felderwin. If Caduceus had already realised, then this text would change nothing.

 And if Caduceus had already realised, and knew that he felt nothing back, then that was Caleb’s weight to bear.

Caleb tapped ‘send’, his heart in his throat, and almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a response.

> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** aw, I’m really glad I can help with that, caleb! and I’m really glad that you feel calm with me ^^  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I feel very calm when I’m with you, too  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I like spending time with you  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I’m not able to call you right now but I can speak to you later, alright?

Almost immediately, whatever concerns Caleb had had earlier vanished. Gods, but even the thought of hearing Caduceus’ soft, gentle voice again made something warm bloom in Caleb’s chest, but he recognised the feeling this time. This time, he could name the fondness and adoration and affection that was not quite love but was so, so close to it. This time, he knew what he felt for Caduceus.

Caleb typed out one more message, his thumbs flying across the keyboard.

> **[Text to: Caduceus Clay :)]** I would like that very much.
> 
> **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** ^-^  
>  **[Text from: Caduceus Clay :)]** I’ll see you soon, caleb

\---

At around seven PM, a knock came at the door. At first Caleb paid it no heed, too engrossed in the documentary he had been watching to really notice it, but then the sound came again, ringing out through the living room. Caleb paused the documentary and, frowning, went to the door. He was certain that he wasn’t expecting visitors. He hadn’t ordered anything to be delivered, and few people outside of members of the Asshole Squad even knew where he lived, and he couldn’t imagine why any of them would be dropping by to see him. None of them were meant to be at work that day anyway, so his presence couldn’t even be missed.

Caleb opened the door, Frumpkin standing curiously by his feet, and the first thing he saw was Caduceus, standing on the other side.

Caduceus smiled. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced.”

For a moment, all Caleb could do was stare. It hadn’t even been all that long since he’d last seen Caduceus, not in the grand scheme of things, but the moment that he saw him again all he could think about was how much he’d missed him since he’d left. Caduceus was dressed simply, as he so often was, in a dark sweater embroidered with moths that was now sparkling with tiny raindrops from the gentle autumn drizzle, but he looked good, refined and comfortable and handsome all at once. He looked like Caleb’s friend, and like his shipping forecast partner, and like the person who Caleb had been longing to see almost since the moment he left.

And he was standing right in front of Caleb, finally close enough to touch.

“ _Nein_ ,” Caleb heard himself say, shaking his head without looking away from Caduceus. “I- no, never, you are always welcome here, Caduceus.”

Caduceus’ smile widened. “I’m glad to hear that. You gave me your address after I left for Felderwin,” he added by way of explanation. “In case I wanted to post you anything.”

“I- I know,” Caleb said faintly, still staring at Caduceus. He was beautiful in the evening light, illuminated both by the streetlamps and by the soft lamplight streaming from Caleb’s open door. It caught on his clothing, making every colour a shade closer to amber and edging every line of his body in gold, and he looked like all the warmth of fire with none of the fury and heat. His hair was loose, tumbling over his shoulder, and his eyes were soft, and everything about him was welcoming and inviting and so, so wonderfully familiar.

Just for a moment, Caleb’s gaze dropped to Caduceus’ lips. He swallowed.

“I remember that,” he continued quietly, forcing himself to meet Caduceus’ gaze again. “I just did not think that… that you would… I thought you were not getting back for another few days. I was not expecting you to come over.”

Caduceus smiled ruefully, giving a slight shrug. “Ah, yeah, that’s fair. But I just felt like this was the right time to return, what with everything that’s been happening, so I sorted some stuff out and left a bit early. I dropped all my stuff at home and then came over. I hope that’s alright. If it’s not just let me know, I can-”

“No, no, this is alright,” Caleb interrupted quickly, feeling his smile threatening to engulf his whole face. “This is- this is alright. This is fine.” More than fine, in fact. So, so much more than just fine, than just alright, but Caleb didn’t know how to say that, not to Caduceus’ face. He didn’t know how to tell Caduceus that he had missed him more than words, that all he had wanted last night was for Caduceus to be close enough to touch, to hold, to hug.

And, now Caduceus was.

Caleb stepped forwards unthinkingly, the ground outside chilly beneath his socked feet, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that. He had Caduceus now, right there in front of him, so close that Caleb could see the dark lines of his lashes, could see the colour of his eyes, could see how his smile tugged at his lips and how his ears swished gently in the cool autumn air. He could see the fabric of his sweater, could see the embroidered moths stitched across it. He could see everything.

He could feel Caduceus’ arms around him in a hug, and could feel himself hugging back.

Caleb wasn’t sure who initiated the hug, but he didn’t care. He _couldn’t_ care, couldn’t care in the slightest when, after two weeks of Caduceus being absent, he could finally smell the peat-petrichor-tea scent that always clung so closely to his skin and clothing, could finally feel the warmth of Caduceus’ arms around his back and could finally feel the soft fuzz of Caduceus’ fur against his skin. Caleb’s arms were already around Caduceus’ waist, his cheek pressed to Caduceus’ sweater. It was warm and soft, smelling of rosehips and hibiscus, and, just beneath it, Caleb could hear the steady drumming of Caduceus’ heart, ticking away like a metronome.

“Hey,” Caduceus said. Caleb could feel his voice through his chest, could feel it rumbling along his bones, and he pressed closer against Caduceus, feeling, if just for a moment, as if he understood why cats purred. “Hey there, Caleb.”

Caleb smiled. “ _Hallo_ ,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by Caduceus’ sweater, and Caduceus laughed quietly, the sound of it more felt than heard. Caleb shivered a little, shutting his eyes as he pressed impossibly closer still. He never wanted to lose the sound of that voice. He never wanted to lose the sound of that laugh. He sighed quietly, his hands tightening briefly in Caduceus’ sweater. “I missed you…”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Caduceus chuckled, and Caleb smiled wider still. “I missed you too, Caleb.”

“Mm.” Caleb hugged Caduceus tighter, holding him like a life-line, and drew in another breath, pulling the scent of tea and petrichor into his lungs. It was a soft smell, a strange one – it reminded Caleb, as it always had, of a forest after a rainstorm, when everything is still and quiet and the air is just cool enough to be refreshing. It was a comforting smell, a familiar one, and with every breath that Caleb took he almost felt as though he could feel it diffusing through his body, sinking into his bones and blood until he would never truly be without Caduceus again.

Caduceus laughed again, one hand rubbing against Caleb’s back. “You’re feeling affectionate, huh?” he asked, but there was no judgement in his voice, only a sort of surprised delight. “’S alright. We can hug for as long as you want.”

“Mm,” Caleb hummed again. Some part of him felt almost guilty about how long he was hugging Caduceus for, but most of him simply didn’t care. Caduceus was _here_. He was back from Felderwin, and he was here outside Caleb’s house, and he was hugging Caleb and Caleb was hugging him, finally getting to hear his voice in person instead of just over the phone. Caleb didn’t want to stop hugging him for a good while yet. He wanted to keep hugging Caduceus, and he wanted Caduceus to keep hugging him, and he wanted to take Caduceus’ hand, and tell him how much he missed him, and, more than anything, he wanted to kiss him.

And so he did.

There was no hesitation in his mind, no second thoughts to hold him back. The hands that were on Caduceus’ back slipped and move to come to rest on his waist, gripping tightly to the soft fabric of his sweater as Caleb leaned in, stretching up on tip-toes in order to close the space between them. His other hand raised, coming to rest on Caduceus’ chest – beneath his palm he could faintly feel Caduceus’ heart beating, and part of him thought that he could feel the sudden jump in his heartrate when their lips pressed together, but that thought was quickly banished because, after a tiny, breathless pause, Caduceus started kissing him back just as softly and as gently as Caleb was kissing him. Caduceus’ lips were warm beneath Caleb’s own, slightly chapped and slightly rough, but Caleb couldn’t find it in himself to care about that. He couldn’t care about the chill of the night, or the gentle rain falling on his shoulders and face, or anything at all outside of the feeling of Caduceus’ hands gentle on his waist, Caduceus’ lips gentle on his own. Everything about Caduceus was gentle. The kiss didn’t last long, didn’t go beyond a sweet, soft press of lips on lips, but it warmed Caleb down to the very marrow of his bones, making his heart start to race even as his thoughts fell beautifully, wonderfully quiet. All that mattered was Caduceus. All that mattered was Caduceus, and the feeling of his mouth against Caleb’s.

Slowly, gradually, the kiss ended. Caleb felt himself settling back down onto his feet, unaware that he’d even been stretched up on tip-toes until he found himself standing flat again. His hands didn’t leave Caduceus’ body, the one that was on his chest moving down to mirror the one on his waist, and Caleb let himself breathe for a few moments before he looked up, unsure of what he was about to see. Already he could feel the fear and concern rising in his chest, making his heart speed up and his hands turn clammy, but it was a bizarrely secondary sensation. He was concerned that he hadn’t asked for Caduceus’ permission to kiss him, was concerned that he hadn’t checked with him or even confirmed that whatever feelings he had were reciprocated, but all the same Caleb couldn’t forget how Caduceus had softened beneath his lips, kissing him back just as gently and just as willingly as Caleb had kissed him. He couldn’t forget the feeling of Caduceus’ body pressed against his own, couldn’t forget how tightly Caduceus had hugged him. He couldn’t forget the smell of tea and petrichor.

He couldn’t forget the warmth in Caduceus’ eyes when he’d first opened the door, and he couldn’t ignore the warmth in them now as he looked back at Caleb.

“Well, hey,” Caduceus murmured softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That was nice…” His eyes were half-hooded as he spoke, his hands settled warmly on Caleb’s waist. Caleb hadn’t even noticed them moving, hadn’t noticed them coming to settle there, but now that they were there he couldn’t imagine them possibly being anywhere else. Caduceus’ hands were comfortable on his waist, settling easily as though they’d rested there a hundred times before. Despite everything, nothing about this situation felt new. Despite everything, nothing about this situation felt unexpected.

It just felt right.

It just felt comfortable.

Caleb smiled. “Hey,” he echoed, his voice quiet. He felt like he should say more, like it was his place to keep on speaking, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to fill his mind with thoughts other than Caduceus, or the kiss, or anything like that. Not now, when his mind felt so light, all fire banished and all shadows gone. There was no darkness lingering in his skull now. There was no ash and embers. There was only Caduceus, and the scent of peat and tea.

The silence stretched on, but neither Caduceus nor Caleb made any move to break it. Caleb, oddly, didn’t really feel like he needed to – the silence was peaceful, comfortable and calm, and even with the cool touch of the gentle rain landing on his face, Caleb felt no sense of urgency. There was never any sense of urgency, not with Caduceus. With Caduceus, he never felt like he had missed a social cue, or like he was being boring, or like he had somehow said something wrong or revealed too much of his anxieties. He just felt listened to, even when he knew that Caduceus didn’t understand anything that he was going on about, and when Caduceus was quiet in the wake of something that Caleb had said, Caleb knew that it was because, instead of rushing to comment, Caduceus was taking his time thinking over Caleb’s words like every single one of them mattered. Like Caleb’s thoughts mattered.

Like Caleb mattered.

_I should say something_ , Caleb thought quietly as the silence continued to grow, looking up at Caduceus. Caduceus’ eyes were soft and warm, the pale pink of them turned blush and rose by the orange of the streetlamps. The light caught on his cheekbones, on the slope of his nose, tangled in his long, dark lashes and painted shadows across his face, so deep and dark as to give the impression of being nothing but void. He was beautiful. He was gorgeous.

Caleb wanted to kiss him some more and, as he watched, Caduceus’ ears swished once, and then twice.

Caleb curled his hands tighter in Caduceus’ sweater. _I should say something,_ he thought again, but the thought was quieter now, less loud and less important. _I should apologise. I should explain._

_I should kiss him again_.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. There was still too much unspoken between them, too many things in Caleb’s mind that he wanted, _needed_ to tell Caduceus. He needed to tell him how much he missed him, how much he had loved listening to the shipping forecast with him, how much just speaking to Caduceus, listening to Caduceus, had calmed him when little else could.

He needed to tell Caduceus how much he meant to him.

He needed to tell Caduceus how much he cared for him.

“…Come inside,” Caleb said eventually, and Caduceus smiled.

“Alright,” he replied, and as Caleb led him inside his house, the door shutting behind them, Caduceus squeezed Caleb’s hand in his own, and Caleb finally felt that his world had settled again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful art in this chapter was done by [fswrites](https://twitter.com/fswrites), [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt), and [yourstrangebird](https://twitter.com/yourstrangebird/status/1175781219394641920)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **September 16th!**


	14. Chapter 14

It was quiet inside Caleb’s home. The documentary that Caleb had been watching before Caduceus arrived was still playing on his laptop, scenes of bright ocean fish moving across the screen, but the volume was low and Caleb was quick to pause it when they entered the room. He moved his laptop, too, shutting it and placing it onto the coffee table, and if every action was made a little bit trickier by how he didn’t let go of Caduceus’ hand, well… he felt it was worth it.

He hoped Caduceus didn’t mind, too. He doubted that Caduceus would, feeling that after the hug and the kiss this handholding was minimal in comparison, but part of him still worried. Part of him always worried. Part of him always had.

Soon, though, the living room was silent. Caleb guided Caduceus over to the couch, the firbolg following easily behind him, and then stopped before it.

“Sit down?” he asked. He didn’t mean for the words to come out like a request but they did anyway, all of his growing anxiety and prickly nerves making themselves known in his voice. Caduceus didn’t seem to mind, though. He just smiled, calm and gentle, and Caleb felt his nerves settle a little just from the sight of his smile. He loved Caduceus’ smile. He loved everything about him.

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, “sure.”

Together, they made themselves comfortable on Caleb’s couch. Some part of Caleb had been planning on letting go of Caduceus’ hand once they were sat down, had been planning to scoot away and put space between them and call Frumpkin up to his lap so that he could distract himself from Caduceus’ hand by petting Frumpkin’s fur, but he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to make Caduceus uncomfortable, hadn’t wanted it to seem like he was forcing himself on Caduceus in any way – and, gods, but he didn’t even know if Caduceus liked men, didn’t know if Caduceus had responded out of politeness or genuine fondness – but the longer he held Caduceus’ hand, the more loathe he was to let go of it. They held hands practically every day when Caduceus was at the museum as it was. They already sat close together, sharing space and trading small, affectionate touches without even thinking about it. Even if Caleb _hadn’t_ just kissed him, this, for them, would be normal. This, for them, would be accepted.

This, for them, was comfortable.

And so Caleb didn’t let go of Caduceus’ hand, and when Caduceus sat down next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch and their knees to nudge, Caleb didn’t move to pull away. He could feel the warmth of Caduceus pressing against his own body, could feel his chest shifting with every slow, measured breath, and for a moment all he could think of was their countless shared shipping forecasts, with the rain drumming gently against the windows just as it was now, and the tea filling the space around them with fragrant steam.

_This is just Caduceus_ , Caleb told himself. _This is just Caduceus, and I am not a bother_.

Caleb cleared his throat. “So,” he said, just a little bit awkwardly. “We should probably talk about- about- um, we should…” He trailed off, chewing on his lip. He knew that they needed to talk about this, had _wanted_ to talk about it not even a minute ago, but, somehow, between the kiss outside and now, all the nerves and worry that Caduceus’ gentle touch had kept at bay had started to rise again. They weren’t strong enough for Caleb to panic, but they were enough to make him concerned, and to choke up his words in his throat. He needed to say them, though. He knew that. He needed to explain himself, needed to check that this was okay.

He needed to acknowledge what had just happened.

“I just kissed you,” Caleb blurted out suddenly, before he really even noticed himself starting to speak. He snapped his mouth shut, abruptly terrified that he had done something wrong in acknowledging the situation so openly, but by his side Caduceus only laughed, low and soft and delightfully rumbly and deep. There was no meanness in that laugh. There was no harshness. There was only amusement, and a quiet delight, and an undeniable, absolute fondness.

“You did do that,” Caduceus agreed, and Caleb nodded. Against the back of his hand, he could feel Caduceus’ thumb moving in repetitive, steady strokes.

“I did,” he said. “I- mm, _ja_ , I did that.”

“And it was nice.”

Caleb smiled at that, just a little. “It- it was nice,” he agreed quietly. Gods, it had been more than nice. It had been wonderful. He had been wanting to kiss Caduceus for so, so long, and he hadn’t even realised it until last night. How many times could he have kissed Caduceus before now? How many times could he have leaned over while they were listening to the shipping forecast, Caduceus’ hand held in his own just as it was now, and stretched up, and kissed him? How many times could he have experienced this moment before now?

How long ago could this have happened?

That didn’t matter, though, not really. There was no point dwelling on could have’s and would have’s. Caleb knew all too well that he couldn’t go back in time and change the past, no matter how much he may want to. He couldn’t step back to earlier weeks at the museum and make himself realise his own feelings then. He couldn’t turn back time to months ago and be bold enough to ask Caduceus out then. He couldn’t do any of that.

All he could do, instead, was be content that this had happened at all.

Caleb cleared his throat quietly and looked down at their joined hands. It was a familiar sight to him by now, as familiar as Frumpkin and just as soothing, and yet he had barely known Caduceus for more than a few months. He had known Caduceus for only as long as he’d lived in Zadash, and yet, now, he could barely imagine his life without him.

“I kissed you,” he murmured, the words more spoken to himself than to Caduceus, and by his side he felt Caduceus hum quietly. “I- I kissed you. Just then. And you _liked_ it.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus confirmed quietly. “Yeah, I did. And you seem to, too.”

Caleb felt himself smiling. “I did. Um, quite a lot.”

“Mm. It seemed kind of like something you’ve been building up to for a while.” There was no weight to Caduceus’ words, no expectation or anticipation of anything more, and Caleb shifted a little in place as he heard them. He _had_ been building up to this for a while, even if he hadn’t realised it himself. He didn’t know for how long, didn’t know how long he’d had these feelings for Caduceus glowing as warm as sunlight within his chest, but he knew that they were there. He knew that he liked Caduceus, liked him more than just a colleague or a friend, and he knew that, whatever they had just started when Caleb had kissed him outside, he wanted it. He wanted _Caduceus_ , in his life and in his home and in his heart, holding his hand in his office and pressing kisses to his lips in the soft evening darkness and simply being himself. He wanted Caduceus to know how much he felt for him. He wanted Caduceus to know how much he cared for him.

He _needed_ Caduceus to know, and so, despite the nerves in his stomach, he was going to tell him.

“I, um… yesterday, during our phone call, I realised something,” Caleb started, keeping his voice level by force of will alone. “I was listening to you, and sort of dozing off, and I realised that- I realised that, right then, what I really wanted was you.” He stared down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. There was still an ink stain on his index finger from yesterday, where he’d been writing a note and his pen had leaked, and Caleb fixed his gaze on it. He couldn’t look up at Caduceus. Not right now. “I realised that I wanted you to be there, in my room. Not- not doing anything, you know, not, really, just being there. Um. Hugging me. I wanted-…” He breathed in, cutting himself off, and then continued, quieter, “I wanted you to-  I wanted you to know how much I missed you, and how much I loved texting you, and how much I- how much I cared about you. And I realised that I didn’t just want to hug you, or see you again. I wanted-” _Say it._ “-I wanted to kiss you. Um. Quite a lot.” He fell silent, staring down at his hands.

There was a short pause.

“If it’s any help, it’s not just been you. I’ve actually been wanting to kiss you for a while,” Caduceus admitted, and Caleb felt his thoughts slam to a stop as he snapped his head up to look at the firbolg.

“…You have?” he asked, hearing himself say the words without truly being aware of speaking, and Caduceus shrugged, giving a slight smile.

“Well, yeah. You’re a very handsome man, Caleb,” Caduceus said, as easily as if he was discussing the weather. “And I think you’re rather charming, and interesting, and generally pretty wonderful, so… yeah. I’ve been wanting kiss you for a while now. Actually, I’ve been more wanting to date you, if you were amenable to that. That’s probably a more accurate way of putting it. I like you a lot, you know. I have for a while. But you’ve mentioned a few things about Rexxentrum, and people there, and you didn’t seem to give any indication of looking for anything, so… well, I figured that I’d just keep living my life while liking you, not wanting to pressure you or force you or do anything like that, and if things changed for you, and it seemed like you were also interested in me, then I’d wait for you to make the first move to make sure that you were comfortable.” Caduceus shrugged again, making Caleb’s shoulders brush against his arm. “It was pretty straightforward, really,” he continued, not seeming to notice that, with that one short speech, he’d stunned Caleb into silence. “I liked you a lot, and had feelings for you, but nothing good ever comes from rushing things and pressuring people, and I’m good at being patient and, ah, checking the waters. So I waited, and here we are. Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it?”

“How long were you waiting?” Caleb said faintly, and Caduceus merely shrugged again.

“Oh, a while,” he said vaguely. “Like I said, I didn’t want to rush or presume anything or make you uncomfortable, so I didn’t. And it looks like I didn’t need to, either, because this all happened anyway. The universe is like that, sometimes. And I don’t know exactly what it is that you’re looking for or hoping for, but if it’s something like this-“ He paused, lifting a hand and waving it to indicate the both of them, “-then I think I’d really, really like to join you in it.”

Caleb smiled. He couldn’t help it. He was always smiling around Caduceus for some reason or another, but he didn’t think he had ever smiled like this – soft and hopeful and just a little bit uncertain, but absolutely delighted beneath it all. Caduceus liked him. Caduceus really, truly, properly liked him, liked him enough to want to kiss Caleb, and to hold his hand, and to want to date Caleb, and spend more time with him, and generally exist in his life in a way that few people ever did or had.

“I’d like that,” Caleb said quietly, feeling warmth surging like sunshine in his chest. “I would- I would really like that. And I am- I am sorry that you were waiting for so long, Caduceus. I never meant to drag you along.”

“Nah, don’t worry about that,” Caduceus replied easily. He squeezed Caleb’s hand, his touch warm and familiar. “Rushing wouldn’t have helped anything. Besides, it kind of seemed to me that you didn’t even realise that this was an option.”

“ _Ja,_ I suppose that is one way of putting it. I think that I…I think I didn’t know that I _was_ looking for this,” Caleb admitted quietly. “I, um… when I first moved here, I told myself that I would just be putting down roots. Getting settled in, becoming accustomed to my job and to everyone at the museum, you know? I didn’t want to enter into a relationship so soon. I didn’t think it would happen at all, actually, and I was alright with that. I had just- in Rexxentrum, I had…” He swallowed, cutting himself short. He hadn’t told this to anyone, not outside of his therapist. He knew that Nott knew some facets of it, and that Caduceus knew others, and that Beau and Jester and Fjord and possibly even Yasha and Calianna and Keg may have picked up on small aspects of it just from things that he had said – or, just as importantly, _not_ said – in conversation, but he’d never put it together for anyone in Zadash. He’d never wanted to.

He wanted to with Caduceus.

Caleb looked down at their hands. Caduceus’ thumb was still moving against the back of his, slow and lazy and unhurried like they had all the time in the world. There was a dusting of pink fur colouring the back of his hand, the colour slightly faded now that they were drawing closer to winter, and against his palm Caleb could feel the peach-fine fuzz that covered Caduceus’ skin. This was familiar. This was good. There was no pressure in this silence, no urging from Caduceus for Caleb to say what he wanted to say, _needed_ to say, faster than he was comfortable with. There was only acceptance, and patience, and peace.

Caleb smiled, and didn’t look up. “In Rexxentrum,” he repeated, “I had a girlfriend. She was-… her name was Astrid, and I loved her very much. Or, well… I thought that I did. I am not sure now which one it was, or even if there is a difference between the two. But I loved Astrid, and I believed her to love me, and we were quite close, as you would imagine two people in a relationship to be. We were good for each other too, I think. She got me out of my comfort zone, and I stopped her from being so hot-headed sometimes, and we had a wonderful mutual friend Eodwulf who we were close to, and we just… worked. We were a very close group, and I loved them both very much. Astrid was good for me.” He paused, and then added quietly, “Or, she mostly was.”

At his side, Caduceus gave a small, curious hum. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Caleb shifted a little in place, chewing at his lip. Were Caduceus’ hand not in his own he felt that he would be scratching at his skin again, giving himself some physical distraction from the uncomfortable memories he was recounting, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Caduceus’ touch, lovely as it was, wasn’t quite as grounding - as distracting - as his scratching tended to be, but it was better for him, and he knew that, and he liked it. He liked holding Caduceus’ hand. He liked how easily Caduceus listened to him.

Eventually, Caduceus spoke, clearing his throat before speaking up quietly and carefully. “Now, I don’t mean to pry in any way, and I don’t want you to say anything you’re uncomfortable with, Caleb, but… yeah, if it’s alright to ask, what did you mean by that?”

“You know that I have… anxieties,” Caleb said cautiously, choosing his words with care. “There are certain things that can… discomfort me, or make me nervous, or can sometimes cause me to… well, they can cause me to dissociate or have panic attacks, to be frank. There is a reason why I have Frumpkin with me at work.”

“He does his little inspection thing,” Caduceus remarked quietly, and Caleb nodded. “Whenever you’re in a new space, or a sort of new space, he checks around all the edges of the room like he’s looking for something, and then, if it’s all clear and copacetic and good, you enter the room.”

“He does do that,” Caleb confirmed, and didn’t elaborate any further. He knew that, at some point, Caduceus would need to know more than the surface level of detail that he was providing right now. He knew that Caduceus would need to know, if not his history and past and the root cause of his trauma, at the very least his triggers and specific fears. He would need to know what made Caleb nervous, and what Frumpkin’s role was in more detail, and what things Caleb simply could not do, no matter how simple they seemed. No matter how much he ‘should’ be able to do them.

But not now. Not in this moment. Not here, with the rain drumming gently against the windows and Caduceus’ hand warm around his own. Here, in the soft golden light of Caleb’s home, they were not considering the past. They were only acknowledging what they needed from it to continue forwards.

_I am not a bother_ , Caleb reminded himself. In his head, he could hear Caduceus’ voice the first time he had told him that. _I am not a bother. I am not an annoyance_.

_I can trust Caduceus with this_.

“Astrid was… like I said, she got me out of my comfort zone. And that was a good thing, you know. I am a very nervous man a lot of the time, you know this, and she believed that by showing me that certain situations were safe and alright that I would, over time, learn to recognise them as such. And it did work, somewhat. If I needed to have a difficult conversation with a colleague, or go somewhere new that I was nervous about, I would know that she would have my back, and that was… it was good. It was very good. She reminded me that, most of the time, what I worry in my head is going to happen is not even a worst-case scenario. It is beyond a worst-case scenario. It is… unreal, let’s say. It simply won’t happen. And by pushing me through those situations, and showing me that the thing I was worried about _didn’t_ happen, I learned that if I were to encounter the same situation in the future, the outcome would likely be the same.” Caleb fell silent for a moment still looking down at his hands. “She was good for me,” he murmured. “She was… she was good for me. She always told me that.”

“She sounds like a good person,” Caduceus remarked quietly from beside him, and Caleb gave a small hum of agreement.

“She was.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… why did you split? Based on what you said earlier, I’m going to assume that you and her were no longer a, ah, a couple when you moved to Zadash.”

Caleb gave a wry, humourless laugh. “No,” he confirmed. “No, we weren’t. It wasn’t the entire cause of why I moved to Zadash – there were some other factors – but it, ah… it definitely played into it. We had had our problems occasionally, as all couples do, and they were, for the most part, fine, but there was… she didn’t…” Caleb trailed off, giving a small sigh, and felt Caduceus give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” Caduceus said quietly. “Caleb. It’s alright. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Caleb shook his head. “You should know,” he mumbled. “You should- I cannot tell you everything, not yet, but you should know. I do not believe you would do this, you seem better than that, but if we are going to be- if we are going to do anything, I need you to be aware of all of my…” He waved a hand at his head. “You know. Things.”

“Anxieties?”

“ _Ja._ That.” Caleb took a breath, and didn’t look up. “Everything that I just told you about, about how Astrid liked to push me through difficult situations to show me that it was fine… I understood where she was coming from. I was a much more nervous man when I first started working in Rexxentrum, and, _ja_ , part of the change was due to my therapist, but part of it was also due to Astrid, and her method of helping me. And it _did_ help, and I know that she was doing it out of the goodness of her heart, or at least I thought she was, but her method of forcing me into unpleasant, ‘safe’ situations…” _Just say it. Just tell him. He will not do it but he needs to know._ Caleb swallowed. “She did that with my triggers too,” he murmured, and next to him he felt Caduceus grow still. “She was- she and Wulf both knew that I had triggers. Wulf was a bit less aware of them, but he did not need to know them as well as Astrid did. But Astrid knew what they were. And she didn’t– she is not a bad person, Caduceus, really, and she did not try to push me directly into the largest one, but she didn’t realise how even something that was very straightforward and safe to her could be panic-inducing for me. I think she… she didn’t wish to harm me, or to upset me, but even when she did, and she knew that it had happened, she kept on trying.” _It’s just a tea-light, Caleb. It’s a tiny candle. It’ll be fine_. “And she got… annoyed.”

“…Oh.”

“Not terribly annoyed!” Caleb hastened to add. “Not in a bad way. She was just… _ja_ , she was disappointed in me. She couldn’t understand why I couldn’t light a candle. She couldn’t- she didn’t…” He paused for a moment, taking a few calming breaths, and when he spoke again his voice was as level and as even as he could force it to be. “She couldn’t understand why I had a panic attack when she put the match in my hand,” he said, and by some miracle, his voice hardly trembled at all. “She couldn’t understand why, when she tried to make me do it again, I panicked. I do not think she understood any of that, even when we broke up.”

“…I’m sorry you went through that. That’s a tough thing to face.”

Caleb snorted. “What, a candle?”

“Ending what you had with Astrid,” Caduceus said gently. “Also the candle, but mostly Astrid. It can be tough to leave something that’s important to you, even when you know it’s the best thing for you.” He turned his head, catching Caleb’s gaze with his own, and gave him a small, soft smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For telling me that.”

Caleb shrugged awkwardly. “You needed to know.”

“Hm. You know,” Caduceus said after a short pause, “if we’re going to be having talks right now about important things, then I should probably let you know my one.”

“Oh, _ja_ , yes,” Caleb said, only then realising how much he’d been speaking. It had been dark outside the windows when Caduceus had arrived, and it was dark still, but he could tell that a fair amount of time had passed while he told Caduceus about his past. “Please do. I have- I’m sorry, I spoke for a long time…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Caduceus assured him. “You had a lot of stuff that you needed to say and that you needed me to understand, and I’m glad that you felt comfortable enough to share it with me.”

Caleb smiled. “I am glad that you listened.”

“I’d always listen to you, Caleb.”

Inside his chest, Caleb felt his heart glow with warmth. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Caduceus, – and, hells, but he knew that really he’d done nothing at all, knew that he didn’t deserve this in the slightest – but he couldn’t help but be grateful for him, for his words and his presence and for everything about him. Even before this, even before now, Caduceus had always been calming and grounding and understanding and _patient_. Even when he hadn’t truly understood, like with the situation with the lynx, he’d always tried. He’d always listened.

And, now, Caleb was going to do the same.

He shifted on the couch, turning himself to face more towards Caduceus so that he could look up at him easier. He wanted to give Caduceus his full attention, and he wanted to make it clear that he was doing it. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “But let me listen to you, now. What do you need to say?”

Briefly, fleetingly, Caduceus smiled. It was a tiny thing, gone in a moment, but Caleb saw it.

“Thank you,” Caduceus murmured, quietly enough that Caleb barely heard it. For a moment he was silent, breathing steadily as he worked out what he wanted to say, and then, after a few seconds, he spoke. “Now,” Caduceus started, “I said earlier that I think you’re an exceptionally lovely and charming man, Caleb, and I mean that. I’m very fond of you, and I’m not going to claim not to be romantically interested in you, because that would be a lie, and I think it’s pretty clear by now that I’m rather fond of you. I like you an awful lot, and I’m very, very glad that you kissed me, because I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now. But,” Caduceus continued, his tone becoming more serious, “if what you’re looking for right now does happen to be something that’s just physical, I might not be able to… provide that, so to speak.”

Caleb frowned, looking up at him. He was fairly certain that most of what they’d done so far, the handholding and the kissing, was definitely physical, and Caduceus had seemed to enjoy all of it. Hells, they were holding hands as they spoke, and Caduceus had just confirmed that he’d enjoyed the kiss. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Caduceus said, and despite the easy, relaxed tone to his voice, Caleb could see the slight droop in his ears, and knew his calmness to be at least somewhat false. “To put it nice and simply, I’m asexual. That’s really about it. And I understand that not everyone knows what asexuality is, so if you don’t, please do let me know because I’d be more than happy to explain it to you, but if you do know what it is, then hopefully you can also understand where I’m coming from.”

“I know what it is,” Caleb said faintly. “I- _ja_ , I know. Wulf is also asexual.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s good. Some people can get a bit confused by it.”

Caleb shook his head, even as he felt his thought starting to whirl. “ _Nein_ ,” he said. “No, _nein_ , I know what it is.” He knew what it was, and, if he were entirely honest, he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. He knew that his feelings for Caduceus were unchanged, knew that he was just as fond and just attracted to Caduceus as he had ever been, but he couldn’t say that Caduceus’ words didn’t mean anything to him. They were important, and Caleb knew that. They were important to Caduceus, and, by extension, they were important to him. “I know what it is,” he repeated. “I’m- thank you for telling me, Caduceus.”

Caduceus shrugged. “I don’t like things being a surprise, and apparently this can be a big one.”

Caleb hummed quietly, nodding. “ _Ja_ , I can- I can imagine how some people could say that.” He could imagine how _he_ could say that, had the situation been even slightly different, or had he not known Caduceus as well as he did. He supposed that it simply wasn’t something that normally crossed his mind, the idea that anyone could be asexual, regardless of how they presented and acted. It had never crossed his mind that Caduceus could be asexual, but at the same time, he’d never really considered _anything_ about Caduceus romantic or sexual orientation outside of a vague, nebulous hope that he was attracted to men in general, and Caleb himself in particular.

Now, though…

Now, Caleb couldn’t help but think about it. He knew himself, and he knew his own orientation and preferences, and he knew what he liked and enjoyed. He knew that, to the best of his knowledge, he’d never before been in a relationship with an asexual person, and that he had certain ideas in mind of what his relationships usually involved as a result of that. But now he was coming to realise that that wasn’t always the case in every relationship.

He was coming to realise that whatever relationship he formed with Caduceus would likely be somewhat different to his prior experience.

Caleb coughed, clearing his throat, and felt his face starting to flush. Gods, but was he really about to ask this? Did he really need to know? “I, ah… Caduceus?”

Caduceus hummed, his ears pricking up slightly. “Mm, yeah?”

“If it’s- if it is alright to ask, I am… Wulf explained to me that some asexual people are alright with…” he trailed off, waving a hand vaguely. “You know. And I am- I am not asexual, you know, but I was just- I was curious how much of that you would be, ah, you would be interested in…?” Caleb could feel his face burning, could feel how the tips of his ears were surely as red as his hair, but, when he peeked up at Caduceus, Caduceus seemed entirely unaffected by Caleb’s stammering. He was still smiling faintly, his expression caught somewhere between fond and thoughtful and, as Caleb watched, he gave a small shrug.

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” he replied. “I understand why you asked it, though. I know that sex can be very important to people, so I think I understand where you’re coming from. Now, I know that some asexual people do enjoy sex, and that’s fine. We can have sex, and enjoy it, and all that, but for me… I find it’s more about my partner, really. I’m not so bothered about it for myself. So, if that’s what you’re looking for in a relationship, know I’ll be happy to help out, but I’m not really one for partaking, if that makes sense. I just don’t want you to start this and then be disappointed later. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Caleb said quietly, frowning to himself. “That’s- hm. Alright.”

“If you need time to think about it, that’s fine,” Caduceus continued. His ears, edged with gold in the soft lamplight, twitched slightly, angling down by a barely noticeable amount, but Caleb spotted it. He understood it. “If you decide that… well, if you decide that maybe this isn’t for you, then I’ll understand. I won’t blame you.”

Caleb felt his heart _squeeze_.

“ _No_ ,” he interrupted quickly. He reached out with his free hand, half-twisting on the couch so that he could rest it on Caduceus’ waist. Beneath the fabric of his sweater he could just about feel the warmth of Caduceus’ skin, the fragile delicacy of his body.  “No, no, Caduceus, that is- that is alright with me. I don’t mind. It is not- sex isn’t necessary. Not if it makes you uncomfortable. I don’t mind.”

“No?” Caduceus asked, and Caleb hated the soft uncertainty in Caduceus’ voice. He hated the worry he could hear in it, hated the quiet fear that he could see in the droop of Caduceus’ ears.

“No,” he said again, more certainly. “I will not lie and say that I am entirely disinterested in sex, but _this_ -” he lifted their joined hands between them, squeezing Caduceus’ firmly, “-this will always come first. I care about you as a person, Caduceus. That is the priority here, always. Sex is… it’s secondary. I mean, it’s fun, and enjoyable, but it’s not a necessity. Not for a relationship. Not for me.”

“Oh,” Caduceus said, relief evident in every word. “Oh, that’s- wow, that’s great. That’s really great. I’m really glad to hear that, Caleb.”

Caleb shifted a little, shrugging. “Well, your comfort is important to me, Caduceus. And are you alright with- are you alright with this?” he added quickly, raising their joined hands. “With the- the handholding, and the kissing earlier?”

To his surprise, Caduceus laughed. “I’m more than alright with that,” he said, chuckling gently. “Really. If there’s one thing that I’m very fond of, it’s physical contact and affection. Platonic, romantic, it’s all good with me. If you want to hold hands, or kiss, or cuddle, I’m always happy to do that. Just give me some warning if you’re thinking of doing more, alright? So that I can let you know how I’m feeling about joining in.”

“’More’ being…?”

“Anything more sexual in nature,” Caduceus elaborated. “Touches in that sort of lower region, actual sexual stuff, anything like that. If you’re unsure about it then you can just ask me. I know what your memory is like.”

Caleb nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed. “And if you- if anything changes, will you let me know?”

“Yeah, sure. I think I know more or less what I’m alright with, but things can always change. That’s just the nature of existing, really.”

Caleb smiled a little. Caduceus’ thigh was warm against his own, his fingers warm and gentle around Caleb’s. “I suppose it is.”

“And, hey, that reminds me. While I was in Felderwin I got you something, actually,” Caduceus said unexpectedly, stirring and reaching into his pocket. He fumbled around for a moment, frowning to himself, and then withdrew a small item clasped in his hand, his long fingers hiding any glimpse of it from Caleb. Caleb leaned forward, frowning curiously. “I meant to mention it earlier, but then we got a bit distracted. But I, ah, I saw it in the gift shop of the museum,” Caduceus explained. “And It reminded me a bit of you, and I thought that you’d like it, so… yeah.” He reached out, passing the item to Caleb. “I hope you like it.”

Caleb looked down, and opened his hand.

Sitting in his palm was a small wooden charm for a keyring, no larger than two inches by one. The corners of it were gently rounded, the whole thing polished to a smooth, pleasant finish that highlighted the grain of the wood and shone dully in the warm light of the living room. It fit nicely in the palm of Caleb’s hand, the wood still retaining the warmth from Caduceus’ hands, and, woodburned right in the centre, was an image of a snowdrop.

“They had lots of other flowers,” Caduceus said quietly, as Caleb continued to stare at the keycharm. “Lots of roses, some lilies, a couple of daffodils and daisies and all that, but I thought you’d like this one the most. It seemed the most you.”

“It’s lovely,” Caleb murmured quietly, not yet looking up from the charm. He rubbed his thumb over the surface of it, feeling the smoothness of the wood and the faint groove that marked the snowdrop. He rubbed his thumb again, repeating the motion like the charm was a worry stone for him to carry. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it could be.

Without looking up, Caleb reached out and placed the keycharm on the coffee table. He wanted to add it to his keyring right then and there, but his keys were in the little bowl by the front door, and to get there he would have to leave Caduceus on the couch, and he didn’t want to do that.

In the light of the living room, the snowdrop petals were the colour of honey and gold.

“Thank you,” Caleb said quietly, looking up at Caduceus.

Caduceus smiled. Somehow, here beneath the soft lights of Caleb’s home, he looked more real than he had outside the door. With the rain still falling gently outside the windows, the entire house seemed to be wrapped up in a gentle blanket of quiet background sound, isolating them away from the stresses and worries of the world. Here, on Caleb’s second-hand couch, it was just them. There was no fire here. There was no stress. There was just Caleb, and Caduceus, and Frumpkin curled up asleep in the armchair.

“Of course,” Caduceus replied, and, in that moment, Caleb knew that he wanted to kiss him again. He felt his gaze dart down to land on Caduceus’ lips, watching as they curved in a soft smile. He wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to lean forwards, and stretch up, and press a kiss to Caduceus’ lips and feel the warmth of Caduceus against his chest. He wanted Caduceus’ arms around him, and he wanted Caduceus beneath his hands, and he wanted to kiss him again.

And, now, he could.

And so, he did.

The kiss was just as soft as their first one had been, was just as sweet and just as gentle. Caleb thought that he could feel Caduceus giving a soft, content sigh against his lips, feeling one of Caduceus’ hands coming to settle on his waist. He shivered a little beneath the layer of his shirt and loose, comfortable sweater; Caduceus’ hands were large, easily wrapping around the curve of his side and spreading warmth everywhere they touched, even through the layers of fabric that separated Caleb’s skin from his, and Caleb loved it. He loved feeling Caduceus’ hands on him, and he loved feeling Caduceus’ lips against his own, and he loved the calm and quiet and absolute, certain contentedness that filled him very nearly whenever he was with Caduceus. Caleb gave a soft sigh, tilting his head slightly to change the angle of the kiss, and Caduceus immediately moved with him, willing and relaxed and pliant beneath Caleb’s touch. Caleb didn’t think at all before shifting on the couch, moving his hands to the position they had been in outside, with one on Caduceus’ waist and on his chest. Beneath his palm he could feel Caduceus’ heart beating, slow and steady and certain and _alive_.

No fear. No fire. Just Caduceus.

Eventually, the kiss ended. Caleb leant back with a little sigh, breathing in slowly, and opened his eyes to find them coming to rest on Caduceus’ lips. He could still feel Caduceus’ heart beneath his hand, beating away like a metronome, but he couldn’t focus on it.

“You want to kiss me some more?” Caduceus asked, his eyes still half-hooded and lazy, and Caleb nodded, unable to pull his gaze away from Caduceus’ lips. They looked no different to how they normally did, what with how all of their kissing so far had been sweet and gentle, but Caleb couldn’t stop himself. He wanted to kiss Caduceus again. He wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and wrap his arms around Caduceus’ waist and press his face to the curve of his neck and drown in the scent of tea and petrichor, to abandon whatever unpleasant memories his mind was trying to throw at him, and instead let himself be comforted.

“ _Ja_ ,” he murmured quietly, and, somehow, he made himself look back up, meeting Caduceus’ gaze. “I’d like that very much.”

Caduceus smiled. “I’d like that too,” he said. His hands flexed on Caleb’s waist, gently drawing him in, and Caleb unthinkingly, unhesitatingly, leant up, and met him halfway in a kiss. He kissed him slowly, easily, lazily; he leaned back to take a breath and then kissed him again, feeling himself melting into the smooth, easy touch of lips against lips. Everything with Caduceus was easy. Everything with Caduceus was straight-forward. Caleb turned further, shifting forwards on the couch as Caduceus moved to rest his back against the armrest, bracketing Caleb between the long lines of his legs. Caleb couldn’t hear anything now beyond the quiet sound of their lips sliding together, just barely audible over their soft breathing and the gentle drum of the rain against the windows. There was nothing else to think about. There was nothing else to worry about. There was no fire, and no Astrid, and no pressure from work and no worry about keeping his anxieties in check and no fear about being annoying. There was none of that. For a moment, it felt like there never had been.

For a moment, it felt like all that had ever existed was Caleb and Caduceus, and the contact between them.

Caleb curled his hand in Caduceus’ sweater, stretching up just a little bit more. Despite everything he still wanted to be closer – he could feel Caduceus’ hands on his hips, thumbs brushing lazily back and forth over his hipbones, and he could feel Caduceus’ chest against his own, separated only by a few layers of fabric, and he could feel Caduceus’ mouth opening under the gentle, cautious testing of his tongue, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to lose himself in Caduceus, drown himself in his touch and his smell however he could. He wanted to keep kissing him forever. He wanted to break off the kiss and press his face to Caduceus’ neck and be held by him as the rain continued to fall. He wanted to learn the bones of Caduceus’ hands and the softness of his ears.

He wanted Caduceus, and he had him.

“Caduceus,” he murmured softly, his lips moving against Caduceus’ own. “Cad…”

“Caleb,” Caduceus murmured back. His voice seemed deeper than it had before, just a touch lower and touch rougher, and Caleb shivered. He loved Caduceus’ voice. He adored it. He tilted his head, finding a new angle, and so, _so_ carefully, ran his tongue against the seam of Caduceus’ lips.

Beneath him, Caduceus gave a small, quiet inhale of breath.

Caleb sat back a little. “Sorry,” he murmured quickly. “Was that- is that alright? I didn’t mean to push-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Caduceus said quickly. His hands were still on Caleb’s hips, grounding him and keeping him present, and when he smiled down at him, Caleb felt what little concern had been rising in his chest vanish immediately. “It’s alright,” Caduceus repeated. “If you want to make out, I’d be more than happy to do that.”

_“…Ja?_ ”

“Oh, yeah. I like kissing. I like making out. It’s nice.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good to know,” Caleb said, and, smiling, he leaned back in to kiss him again. He felt Caduceus smiling against his lips when he kissed him, felt his hands flexing against his hips, and knew that he was smiling back. He shifted one hand, slipping it up Caduceus’ back to tangle gently in the hair at the back of his head. Caduceus’ hair was soft, just as soft as Caleb had always imagined it being, and beneath his touch he felt Caduceus give a quiet, happy-sounding hum. Caleb smiled against his lips, gently twisting the hair around his fingers, not hard enough for it to hurt but just enough for it to be felt, like he was playing with or petting Caduceus’ hair.

“You like that?” he murmured, and Caduceus nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. He broke the kiss for a moment, leaning back against the couch, and Caleb followed him, finding himself half-leaning against Caduceus’ chest with Caduceus’ hands warm on his hips. Caduceus smiled down at him, his ears swish-swishing gently, and Caleb couldn’t help but smile back. “I like people playing with my hair,” Caduceus continued. “It feels really nice. It can make me kind of sleepy sometimes, though.”

Caleb smiled, winding the strands around his fingers some more. “ _Ja_?”

“Mhmm. One time Jester played with my hair at one of her winter parties and I fell asleep right there on the couch. She didn’t mind, though.”

Caleb hummed quietly. “And what about your ears?” he heard himself asking. “Will anything happen if I touch those?”

Caduceus shook his head. “Nah, not really. They’re slightly more sensitive than human ears, but that’s about it.” His smile widened. “You can touch them if you want to. I’ve noticed you looking a few times. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by drawing your attention to it.”

Caleb ducked his head slightly, blushing. He couldn’t deny Caduceus’ words, and he didn’t want to, and so a moment later he shifted his hand, abandoning playing with Caduceus’ hair to instead move his hand closer to one of Caduceus’ ears. Caduceus obligingly turned his head, shortening the distance, and a moment later Caleb’s fingers encountered the fur he had been curious about for so, so long.

Beneath his fingers, Caduceus’ ears were as soft as velvet.

Caleb lost track of time a bit after that. He felt the softness of Caduceus’ ears, and played with his hair until Caduceus was grinning up at him all relaxed and comfortable, and then they kissed and kissed some more, learning each others likes and coming to recognise each other’s boundaries. Their hands never moved much, staying above the belt, but Caleb was more than alright with that. He liked this. He liked the softness of Caduceus’ touch, and the warmth of his mouth, and he liked how, occasionally, Caduceus would make small sounds of contentment, little hums and indistinguishable murmurs spoken against Caleb’s lips. They kissed until the kisses gradually, naturally, faded down to nothing, and then they rested on the couch, with Caleb resting against Caduceus’ chest, hearing Caduceus’ heart beating away beneath his head.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Caduceus spoke up.

“It’s getting late,” he said quietly. Caleb felt his words more than he heard them, feeling them rumbling through Caduceus’ chest, and he bit his lip at them. They were true, and he knew it, but he didn’t want this moment to end, even though he knew that it had to. He liked Caduceus, and a large part of him wanted to ask him to stay the night, wanted to offer up his bed and feel Caduceus’ embrace in slumber, but a larger part of him knew that he wasn’t ready for that quite yet. For as much as he liked Caduceus, for as much as he adored him, this was still new, and surprisingly unexpected. It hadn’t quite settled in Caleb’s head the way he knew that it would eventually have to do. It didn’t quite feel real. It didn’t quite feel his.

“It is,” he agreed quietly. “I- _ja_ , I understand. It _is_ late…”

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, his voice just as soft as Caleb’s had been. “I do need to head home and unpack everything. I didn’t get round to opening my suitcase before I headed over, you know. I figured the suitcase could wait. I needed to check that you were alright first.”

“Oh, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright,” Caduceus assured him. “Really.” He smiled at Caleb, his hand moving in slow, steady strokes along the length of Caleb’s spine, and Caleb felt his worry and concern fade almost to nothing. It was alright. It would be alright.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I suppose I shouldn’t delay you any longer, then.”

They rose from the couch together, crossing to the front door. Caleb opened it with Caduceus’ hand still held in his own, and when Caduceus turned to face him in the doorway, the light of the streetlamp outside haloing him and outlining his body in amber in gold, just for a moment Caleb felt like he no longer knew how to speak.

“I’ll see you soon, Caleb,” Caduceus said, and Caleb smiled.

“ _Ja_ ,” he replied, finding his voice again. “I’ll see you soon.”

He reached out unthinkingly, his knuckles brushing against Caduceus’ waist, and then, in the open doorway of his house, he stretched up on tip-toe, and kissed him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please be aware that there will not be a new chapter next week!**
> 
> Turns out that being away from home for nearly a month for work training is more draining and exhausting than I thought, so TME is going to go on break for a short while so that I can recuperate because somehow I have ALREADY caught a cold (and also so that I can catch up on writing The House On Tealeaf Hill).
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **September 30th!**


	15. Chapter 15

As Fjord had suggested – or, rather, ordered – Caleb took the rest of the week off. Caduceus visited a few times more throughout the week, joining Caleb both on days when his brain felt sharp and prickly as well as on days when it didn’t. They didn’t do much, mostly just talking and spending time together, but Caleb appreciated Caduceus’ presence more than he knew how to put into words. No matter how he felt, no matter how the day was going, things always felt better when Caduceus was around, like the shadows in his mind were, if for a moment, less heavy than they had previously been. They went on a few walks, bundled up against the late autumn chill, and Caleb caught himself marvelling more than once at the play of sunlight over Caduceus’ features, watching his lashes paint shadows like ink across his face. They played with Frumpkin, and spoke about work, and shared stories about the rest of the Asshole Squad, but mostly they just existed near each other, not always talking or communicating but simply being.

Even when they were being quiet, though, they were never far from each other’s side.

It hadn’t taken Caleb long to discover just how much he liked cuddling Caduceus. He knew that Caduceus was an affectionate person by nature, as was shown by how he held Caleb’s hand, and kissed Jester’s forehead, and braided Yasha’s hair while at the museum. He was tactile by nature, comfortable and casual about it in a way that Caleb could never hope to be. He’d never had _reason_ to hope to be as tactile as Caduceus. He’d always been, perhaps not withdrawn, but definitely more careful with his affection than Caduceus was. He didn’t like being touched unexpectedly, and touches when he didn’t want them could make him feel itchy beneath the person’s hand, and he’d never been one for much in the way of cuddles and snuggles outside of Wulf and Astrid, and even then it had been a rare occurrence.

But not with Caduceus.

It had taken at most three hours into Caduceus’ second visit to Caleb’s house for him to realise this, when they sat down on the couch to watch some baking show that Caduceus had recommended, with Frumpkin curled on Caduceus’ lap and Caduceus’ arm warm around Caleb’s shoulders. Caleb had never seen the show before, despite Wulf telling him to watch it a number of times, but he trusted Caduceus’ opinion of it, and so, after trading a few kisses at the door and sharing a quick dinner of take-out, Caduceus had found the correct channel and sat down next to Caleb. Caleb had pressed against his side, wanting to do more but not knowing how to ask, and a moment later Caduceus’ arm had wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him in closer until Frumpkin made a small sound of annoyance and moved from Caduceus’ lap to the armchair, so as to be out of the way. Caleb had smiled to himself, absently tilting his head a little to press closer still to Caduceus’ side, and had made some comment about annoying the cat that Caduceus had laughed at quietly.

And then, not even five minutes later, he’d found himself _actually_ cuddling Caduceus, his face pressed against Caduceus’ neck and his arms around Caduceus’ waist as Caduceus ran one hand down his spine, the other playing with Caleb’s hair. He hadn’t said anything beyond a few quiet checks that Caleb was alright with everything, and he’d laughed gently when Caleb had made a soft noise of contentment the first time he’d tangled his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Caleb’s neck, but most importantly he hadn’t complained. He hadn’t told Caleb that he was being too needy, or that he was being distracting. Caleb hadn’t expected Caduceus to say any of that, not really, not with how much Caduceus enjoyed physical contact, but the concern had been there all the same. The concern was always there. It was just that, around Caduceus, it quietened down until it was almost entirely silent.

In the absence of any complaints, though, and in the presence of nothing but encouragement, Caleb had quickly found himself relaxing further, snuggling against Caduceus’ chest and very nearly dozing off on top of him. Somehow, at some point, Caduceus had started narrating the baking show that they’d been watching. Caleb hadn’t wanted to lift his head from Caduceus’ shoulder, hadn’t wanted to try and find a comfortable position to watch the screen while still remaining as closely glued to Caduceus’ side as he was currently, and so he hadn’t. He’d just stayed there, eyes shut, and had mumbled a half-thought request for Caduceus to tell him what was happening. Caduceus had laughed, low and deep enough that Caleb could feel it echoed in the marrow of his bones, and then he’d pressed a kiss to the crown of Caleb’s head, and scratched at his scalp until Caleb felt as close to purring as he ever had, and murmured, ‘Of course.’

If Caleb was honest with himself, it was one of the best evenings he could ever remember having. Caduceus had narrated the show as best he could, though towards the end it became more him commenting on anything that took his fancy as Caleb snuggled against his chest, half listening to Caduceus’ voice and half listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Oh, she’s making a really excellent chicken,” Caduceus said at one point when Caleb was halfway to dozing off, lulled by the soft sound of Caduceus voice and the gentle caress of his fingers in his hair. The comment was enough to stir him slightly, making him crack open one eye as he turned his head just enough to look up at Caduceus.

“… _Was_?” he mumbled, and Caduceus nodded at the screen.

“For the showstopper,” he explained. “She’s making a chicken out of biscuits. It’s really good – I think she said the wings are made out of gingerbread. I hope it turns out well.”

“…Is this the same lady who puts her bread by her snake’s terrarium to prove? The one you mentioned earlier?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I think she said she was a vet. She seems nice.”

“Hmm. Do you think the chicken will turn out well?”

Caduceus paused for a moment. Caleb shut his eyes again, settling back down against Caduceus’ chest as he waited patiently for Caduceus to respond. He liked how careful Caduceus was with his words. He liked how he thought them over before speaking them aloud.

He liked a lot of things about Caduceus.

“Yeah,” Caduceus said eventually. “Yeah, I think she’ll be alright. She’s got a good pace to her work – it’s very methodical. I think she’ll do okay.” He paused, and then added, “Do you want me to let you know when the chicken is finished so that you can see it?”

 _"_ Mm, _ja, Bitte."_

"Alright." Caleb felt lips press to the top of his head, and hid his smile against Caduceus' neck. "Alight. I'll do that."

“ _Danke_ ,” Caleb murmured quietly. He shifted a little, feeling Caduceus’ arms move easily with him, and then, almost unthinkingly, he stretched up, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Caduceus’ mouth. “Thank you,” he murmured, and then he settled back down, resting his head on Caduceus’ chest, and only raised it again when Caduceus shook his shoulder to show him the finished chicken.

Very quickly, cuddling against Caduceus became one of Caleb’s favourite things to do.

\---

Eventually, Caleb returned to the museum. He didn’t take any additional days off, still feeling worried about being an annoyance or a bother, and so after a week of not discussing the fire with Caduceus, and playing with his cat, and finding exactly where the boundaries of this new relationship lay, he returned to work. He knew from texts from Beau - who’d been permitted, along with everyone else, to return to work on Wednesday - that the museum was more or less fine save for a couple of rooms, but some part of him still didn’t entirely believe it. He had no reason to distrust Beau, had no reason to distrust Caduceus when he visited him that evening, but he couldn’t conceptualise what they were all claiming had happened. He couldn’t mentally process how the museum could have been on fire, and have been touched by the destruction and ruin of flames, and still be standing. He _knew_ that it was fine, _knew_ that it was alright, and that the building had been checked, and that things were more or less returning to normal, but he couldn’t believe it. Not easily.

Not until he stood in front of the museum over a week after the fire had first broken out, feeling his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the building before him, looking for all the world as though nothing had ever happened to it. He could see people walking past it, unknowing or uncaring of the event that had taken place just over a week ago; he could see people sitting on the steps, or walking inside the building. The banners that announced the museum’s biggest and best exhibit, open for a limited time only, still hung against the building’s front, the heavy fabric shifting slightly in the breeze. There was no indication of fire. There was no sign of danger or destruction. There were no broken, burned-black beams, and there were no smouldering embers glowing sullenly against cracked and ruined rubble, and there was no ash and soot drifting through the air to settle and cling to clothing. There was nothing of that.

There was just the museum, looking for all the world exactly how it had when Caleb had first arrived at it.

Around his shoulders, Frumpkin shifted slightly, stirring Caleb from his daze of smoke and memories. He approached and entered the museum slowly, at any moment expecting to see charred wood, or cracked stone, or any indication at all that the fire had ever happened, but he didn’t. The main hall of the museum looked exactly how it always had. Calianna, sitting at the information desk, looked just how she always had, her green ribbons shining in her hair. She smiled and waved at Caleb, and Caleb made himself smile back, and then he was unlocking the door that led into the back of the museum, stepping into the corridor that he knew so well. He could still feel anxiety curdling in his stomach, as heavy as lead, but even here, there was no apparent change. The air still smelled of dust and time, and he could still hear the quiet noises of other people echoing along the hallway, and he could still see the abandoned spiderwebs clinging to the corners of the windows. Moving automatically, he wandered down the corridor, feeling at any moment as though something awful was going to happen, but nothing did. There was no fire. There were no alarms. There was no smell of gas and no taste of smoke, and soon Caleb found himself standing before his office door, just how he did every week day morning.

On his shoulders, Frumpkin was still motionless and quiet, not signalling as he had been trained to do at the smell of gas. That, at least, Caleb knew this space was safe from. There would be no gas fire here.

“Alright,” he murmured to himself and he reached out, resting a hand on the door knob. “Alright. This is just another day at work, Widogast.”

Caleb took a breath, feeling the air chasing through his lungs, and then he opened the door to his office, walked inside, and started to go about his day.

Somehow, despite the anxiety in Caleb’s chest and the fear lurking at the back of his mind, the day went exactly as normal. He greeted Nott, who didn’t even bat an eyelid at his absence, and he spoke to Beau when she swung by his office a few hours later to ask if she could borrow a book from the library, and he replied to emails and caught up on notifications and sent a lot of emails asking for people to _please_ return their books, and the day passed. He didn’t mention how things had changed with Caduceus, and no one asked. No one knew. No one questioned his absence over the last week. No one seemed particularly bothered by the fire at all. It had been a temporary disruption, a brief and exciting event, but it had passed as quickly as it had arrived. Life had returned to normal, save for some construction going on where the fire had once blazed.

Even to Caleb, it was almost as if the fire had never happened at all.

He felt himself calming further as the week continued. He still had his daily shipping forecast meetings with Caduceus, and with every one that passed he felt a little more of the anxiety lodged in his chest slip away. Despite everything that had been said, despite everything that had passed between them, Caleb wasn’t surprised at all to find that their meetings had hardly changed at all. The only change, really, was that now upon arriving he would stretch up, and meet Caduceus half-way for a kiss.

He'd done that today when he greeted Caduceus at his desk, bending down to kiss the firbolg before taking his normal seat on the surface of the desk, watching Caduceus’ ears swish as he finished setting up his laptop and feeling himself smile in response. He took Caduceus’ hand when he sat down next to him, leaning absently against his shoulder as, beyond the window behind them, the rain that had been attempting to drown the city all day continued to pour down in torrents.  

This was all normal. This was all to be expected. This was exactly how things had been before the fire, and the similarity was comforting to Caleb, settling about his shoulders like a blanket.

And, just above the soft, persistent drumming of the rain, came the now-familiar voice of the shipping forecast announcer.

“ _This is Dwendalian Radio 4 with the shipping forecast as issued by the Met Department, on behalf of the Greater Wildemount Maritime and Coastguard Agency at 12:03, today. There are warnings of gales in Everplume, Torrid, Bisaft, Twinsward, Zoon, Marker, and Southern Gate. The general synopsis at 18:00._ _Everplume, Torrid: Southerly veering westerly or south-westerly 6 to gale 8, occasionally severe gale 9 at first, veering north-westerly 4 or 5 later. Rain, then showers. Good, occasionally poor at first. Bisaft, Twinsward: Southerly 6 to gale 8, veering westerly 4 or 5, rain or showers, moderate, occasionally poor at first. Zoon, Marker, Southern Gate: Westerly or south westerly 6 to gale 8, veering westerly or north-westerly 4 or 5, thundery showers, moderate._ ”

“I never told you why I started listening to the shipping forecast, did I?” Caduceus said unexpectedly, his voice low and soft, and Caleb felt himself jump slightly. Caduceus hadn’t spoken loudly, no louder than he normally spoke, and no louder than the voice of the shipping forecast announcer, but his voice was still undeniably unexpected. It didn’t shatter the stillness of the moment so much as crack it, sending a spiderweb of fractures through the soft and quiet and abruptly turning everything sharp-edged and uncertain. They never spoke during the shipping forecast. That simply wasn’t what they did. Ever since the first time Caleb had arrived at Caduceus’ office, out of breath and halfway between determined and terrified that he was overstepping Caduceus’ boundaries, they had always listened to the shipping forecast in silence. All speaking, about anything at all, was briefly put on hold as the forecast played, only happening once the forecast was over. They didn’t speak during it. They never had.

Except, it seemed, that today Caduceus was.

Caleb looked up at him, both curious and concerned about what he was going to see, but Caduceus looked no different to how he normally did. He was looking straight ahead, his gaze unfocused and his ears lying low and comfortable, and there was no indication of distress on his face. There was no sign that anything was wrong. But, all the same, Caleb felt unease stirring in his gut. Caduceus had spoken up during the shipping forecast, which meant that whatever he was saying, for whatever reason, it was perhaps more important to him than anything else had ever been. Whatever he was saying, it was important enough to break their unspoken routine.

Whatever he was saying, he wanted Caleb to know.

Caleb swallowed. He didn’t want to speak aloud, not really – it felt like breaking some unspoken rule, like shattering the peace and silence of a cathedral or bringing loudness to a library. It wasn’t the done thing, and never had been, but he knew that he needed to reply. He knew that.

Caleb breathed in, breathed out, and then opened his mouth. “You haven’t,” he said quietly. His words felt odd, out of place when there was still the voice of the shipping forecast announcer speaking beneath them, as calm and as level as always, but he forced himself to keep speaking anyway. “You- you told me that you started listening to it a few years ago. That was all.”

“…Huh,” Caduceus said, after a short pause, and all that Caleb could pick up from his voice was a vague sense of acknowledgement. There was nothing else that he could see, no indication of curiosity or pain or anything else that may have inspired Caduceus to start speaking. There was just the same quiet, certain calm that was so often in Caduceus’ voice and, somehow, that unnerved Caleb more than anything else.

Just for a moment, around his hand, Caleb felt Caduceus’ hand tighten to a squeeze.

“Well,” Caduceus continued, “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

Caleb frowned. “Is there- can I ask what is inspiring this?”

Caduceus shrugged. “The weather,” he replied vaguely, before lifting his free hand and using it to indicate the laptop before them. “This.”

In the stillness of the room, unknowing and uncaring of the conversation being had, the voice of the shipping forecast announcer continued to speak.

_“…Swavain, Panall: West 5 or 6, increasing 7 at times. Showers. Poor, occasionally moderate at first…”_

Caleb twisted slightly, turning to look out of the window behind them as the announcement continued. It was a cold, wet, miserable sort of day beyond the glass, one of the ones that made Caleb glad that he’d recently bought the spotted cat raincoat for Frumpkin that Caduceus had shown him all those days and weeks ago. His shoes had got soaked through just from the short walk from the bus stop to the museum, and Frumpkin had spent the entire walk hunched on his shoulder, peering out at the world from under his hood. There had been warnings of potential thunderstorms later in the day, too. Caleb hadn’t seen any lightning yet, hadn’t felt any thunder rumbling through the foundations of the museum, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t hoping for it. He liked storms. Thunder didn’t make him jump, and never had. He rather liked the feeling and sound of it, in fact – he liked to be inside while storms raged beyond his windows, liked the sound of the rain and the strange, indescribable stillness it brought to the world, like everything else had come to a standstill for as long as the rain fell. He liked the cleanness in the air after storms, too, and the shine of water forming puddles on the sidewalk.

But, he knew, not everyone was like that. There was a very good chance that Caduceus was not like that.

Caleb turned around again, looking up at Caduceus. “You mean the rain?” he asked quietly.

Caduceus nodded, breathing in slowly. “Yeah,” he said softly. “The storm.”

“It’s only raining, it’s not a storm yet.”

“It will be.”

_“…Dragshallow, Grave: Southerly veering westerly 6 to 7, occasionally 5 at first in north-west Dragshallow. Showers, perhaps thundery. Good, occasionally poor.”_

Despite himself, Caleb shivered. There was a strange weight and certainty to Caduceus’ words, one that was somehow different to the normal assuredness that accompanied everything he said. It felt heavier, somehow, like it was clinging to the words and dragging them down with oil. It wasn’t a certainty born of confidence. It was a certainty born of experience.

From the angle he was looking at, Caleb couldn’t clearly see Caduceus’ eyes. For just a moment, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

“You said that you weren’t a sailor,” Caleb said quietly. “You said that Fjord was, though.”

“I did say that,” Caduceus agreed. “But I don’t think I mentioned how one of my sisters was a sailor, too.”

In his veins, Caleb felt his blood freeze and settle like frost. “…You didn’t mention that,” he said as, all through his mind, every instance of Caduceus mentioning his sisters made its way to the forefront of his thoughts. “You said- you have not said much about what your siblings do, actually, apart from the ones who help at the funeral home. And the one who- the one who helps you with all of… well, with the lynx and similar.” He swallowed. “Clarabelle.”

Caduceus hummed, his ears flicking again. “Yeah,” he said. “Clarabelle.”

“…You said she died some years ago.”

“She did.”

_“…Brokenbank, Icehaven, Mother’s Sigh: South-west veering west or north-west 5 or 6, occasionally 7 at first, decreasing 4 at times late. Thundery showers. Moderate, occasionally poor at first…”_

Beyond the windows of the mycology department, the rain poured down in sheets. It hammered against the roof and windows, rolling a blanket of white noise as thick as sea mist over the room, cutting Caleb and Caduceus off from the rest of the world. To Caleb’s mind, with the imagery of the shipping forecast still hanging in the air, it sounded almost like the roar of ocean waves.

“…When did you start listening to the shipping forecast, Caduceus?” he asked, his voice as soft as he dared, and he felt the shifting of Caduceus’ chest against his side as he drew in a breath.

“Soon after,” Caduceus replied. “Not right away after, but soon.”

“…And what did Clarabelle do?” He shouldn’t be asking that. He shouldn’t be asking it, and he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself any more than he could hold back the tide. Caleb could already see where this conversation was going with awful, painful clarity; he could read letters that were no longer there on old book titles, and he could hear the words that Caduceus wasn’t saying. He could _feel_ it, could feel it in the twisting of his stomach and in the warmth of Caduceus’ body and in the tightness of Caduceus’ hand, the only indication that anything was even remotely wrong, or that what he was talking about was in any way even remotely painful.

Just for a moment, Caleb looked down at their hands. Caduceus wasn’t squeezing his hand, wasn’t holding tight enough for it to hurt, but Caleb had become so accustomed to how Caduceus normally held his hand that even this slight difference was enough for him to pick up on. With the rain outside blotting out most of the sunlight, the only light that illuminated the room came from the bright bulbs overhead, and the brightness of it bleached the colour from Caduceus’ fur.

When Caleb looked up again, he was shocked to see that Caduceus was smiling. It was a faint thing, small and barely there, but it was there all the same, warm and familiar and heart-breakingly fond.

“She was a sailor,” Caduceus said and, just for a moment, Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. He’d known to expect those words, had known them with unshakeable certainty even before Caduceus had said them aloud, but the knowledge still hurt. It was a second-hand sort of pain, born of sympathy and an all too real familiarity with the loss that Caduceus had experienced, but it was still there. Caleb didn’t need to imagine what Caduceus was feeling. He knew for himself what it was like.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “I- oh.”

“She worked on transport and research ships, mostly,” Caduceus continued. Whether he had heard Caleb’s words or not, Caleb couldn’t be sure. His tone was no different to how it had been earlier, still slow and dogged and certain and soft. “Lots of work out in the wet and the rain, she said, but she didn’t mind it. She told me that she liked being able to feel all the… I think she called it ‘the wildness of the sea’. And there were lots of good days, too. She used to take a lot of pictures for me and the others.” Caduceus laughed quietly, and despite his words there was true joy in his laughter, real and honest and genuine. “She told us a lot of stories, too. And she swore like a sailor, which- hm, yeah, I hadn’t actually thought about that saying before. She always just swore like herself, in my mind, but I guess that if she was herself _and_ she was a sailor then she swore like one. My parents weren’t too happy about that. She got in trouble a bit at home, but it was all in good humour. She used to say she’d taken all of my bad language so that I wouldn’t get in as much trouble.” Caduceus laughed again, and this time Caleb could feel it echoing through him, just as clearly as he could hear the open love in Caduceus’ voice. “She was really good. I liked her a lot.”

“I can tell,” Caleb replied. “You seem very fond of her.”

“I am very fond of her. Well, I _was_ , I suppose, but I don’t like that sort of language. I can be fond of her memory, even If she isn’t around anymore.” Caduceus’ ears twitched, flicking back and forth as he gave a small, soft sigh. It was quiet, barely audible over the rumbling of the extractor fans that kept the air of the room clean and free from potential spores, but Caleb heard it. He heard everything that Caduceus was saying. He heard a lot of what he wasn’t saying, too.

“What happened?” Caleb asked softly, though he felt that he already knew.

Caduceus breathed in. “There was a storm,” he said quietly, his voice only barely audible over the hammering rain and the sound of the shipping forecast. “A big one. The water was too wild for anyone to easily reach their ship. Some of the crew made it, and some of them didn’t, and there were a couple who just… couldn’t be found. Like the ocean had taken them for itself.”

“I’m sorry,” Caleb murmured. He hated how useless his words were. He hated how he _knew_ that they were useless, and pointless, and only felt like pity, and that he was saying them anyway.

He hated that he didn’t know how to help.

He twisted his hand slightly, squeezing Caduceus’ before gently rubbing his thumb against the back of Caduceus’ hand. He could feel the fine bones of Caduceus’ hand beneath his skin, could feel the delicate, fragile certainty of them, and he wished that there was more that he could do. He wished that he could say the right words. He wished that he knew what the right words would even be. He wished that he could somehow, by some miracle, bring Clarabelle back.

He wished that he knew how to move on as well as Caduceus had.

Next to him, Caduceus gave a small shrug. “It’s alright,” he said. “It was quite a few years ago, now.”

“ _Ja_ , I know, but it- that sort of pain doesn’t fade easily,” Caleb replied.

“No, it doesn’t, but you can learn to manage it.” For a moment Caduceus turned his head, meeting Caleb’s gaze, and as Caleb watched the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “It’s about remembering the life, mostly. You can’t stop yourself from remembering their death, no matter how hard you try, but you can make yourself focus on the good bits more. It makes it a bit easier. Especially when you don’t have anything to- well.” Caduceus looked back towards the door, his ears drooping. “You know what the sea can be like, I’m sure.”

“Did they… did they find…?” Caleb heard himself asking, even though he already knew the answer.

Caduceus shook his head. “They didn’t,” he replied. “It was a bit of a change for us, actually. We don’t handle cremations, you know – someone else does that and we then organise the funeral – but we know how they work, and even when there’s not a body there’s still something to focus on and assign familiarity to. With Clarabelle, there wasn’t-… well, you can imagine. The ocean doesn’t like to give things back.”

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said. He wished that he could say something else. He wished that he could help.

Caduceus gave a small, faint smile. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “Not all burials have to be done in the earth, you know, especially not now. There’s a lot of ways to remember someone’s life. You can release fish for them, or mix their ashes with soil and plant a tree for them, or, in some places, you can just leave them out in an air burial, and let what life the earth has created come forth to take them away. Years ago, some people were buried by putting them in ships, setting them sail, and then catching the sail on fire. There’s many different ways to bury a body, Caleb, and you don’t always have to be around for them.” Caduceus paused for a moment, still staring directly ahead. From this angle Caleb couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face, couldn’t quite determine what he was feeling, but Caduceus’ hand was still warm around his own, no longer squeezing but instead just holding as gently as he always had. Caleb didn’t speak to break the silence, either. It was a soft silence, a thoughtful one, hung about with promises of more words to come, and Caduceus had always been a careful, thoughtful speaker. He took his time with his words, thinking them over before delivering only exactly what he wanted to say. If he waited, Caleb knew, then eventually Caduceus would speak again. If he waited, then Caduceus would tell him what he was comfortable with saying.

“ _Rumblecusp: West or south-west 6 or 7, occasionally gale 8 at first, rain, poor...”_

Caduceus breathed in slowly, his chest expanding and contracting with each steady, careful inhale and exhale. Around them the shipping forecast announcer continued to speak, telling them in passive, precise words about the storm that was brewing out on the ocean, waiting amongst the white-capped waves for passing ships.

“We didn’t really have a proper burial for her,” Caduceus said eventually, his words quiet and thoughtful. “It wouldn’t have been right. We didn’t have anything to bury, after all, so instead we drove out to a clifftop near where her ship tended to dock and we planted some flowers native to the area. That was more for a marker, though, so that we could go back to the same place again, but it didn’t take long for the local sheep to get to it. It didn’t matter, though. Mostly we just watched the waves. It wasn’t the burial she would have wanted, being left on her own on a clifftop, but it was still a burial. She still returned to where we all come from, just in a different way to how most of us do. Normally the ground takes us, but in her case the sea did. I think it was more fitting, actually. It took me a while to come to that realisation, but it’s true. Clarabelle always preferred the sea to land. She liked its wildness. She wouldn’t have liked being stuck in the ground with the roots and the fungus. That wasn’t where she lived. She lived in the sea. And, now, she still does.”

Caleb nodded to himself. Even from what little he had heard of Clarabelle, he could entirely understand Caduceus’ words. He could understand Caduceus’ reasoning, could see it as clearly as he could read the text in the books that he managed and read. He could see what wasn’t there, too. He could hear what went unspoken.

“You listen to the shipping forecast to remember her,” Caleb said, and his words weren’t a question. It was so obvious, was so clear to him that this was where Caduceus’ story was heading. He didn’t need to know about Caduceus’ family for that. He didn’t need to understand the nuances and intricacies of people. He just needed to know Caduceus. He just needed to understand him.

And he did.

Next to him, Caduceus nodded. “Yeah,” he said, with not a hint of surprise at Caleb’s assumption. “That’s it, pretty much. Or at least, it started that way. These days I do really like listening to it because of how nice and calm and familiar it is, but it started as a way to remember her. Whenever she stayed at home for a visit, she would listen to the shipping forecast before she went to bed,” Caduceus continued quietly. “I just found it very confusing at first – and I still do, actually, they give you a lot of information very quickly – but it sounded kind of nice, and I sort of… I associated it with her. I still do. Sometimes she listened to it when we were both in the same room doing our own things, and she eventually noticed me listening and explained to me what it meant. Not all the details, but things like… how it was telling her the weather out on the sea, so that she knew if the rest of her crew would be alright. Or, if she had a friend on a different ship sailing in Twinsward, she’d have an idea of what sort of conditions they’d be sailing in. She said it made her feel closer to her friends and shipmates when she was on land.”

“Does it make you feel closer to her?” Caleb asked, his voice soft and cautious, and Caduceus nodded.

“It does,” he replied. “It- yeah, it does. I never listened to it before she died on my own, but it was kind of nice sometimes to think about her out at sea, listening to the shipping forecast. Or sometimes, if there was a big storm at home, I’d wonder if it was big enough to reach all the way out to sea. I’d wonder if we were lying under the same rainclouds together. That was kind of nice. And then I’d ask her about it when she got home, and she’d tell me that it was just extremely foggy where they were, but that she appreciated the thought. That was nice. But, like I said, I’d never listened to it on my own until she died. I’d never had any reason to.” Caduceus didn’t sigh, but Caleb could see his chest shifting as he exhaled slowly, his eyes shutting for just the briefest moment before he opened them again. “I had reason after that,” he continued, and, somehow, his words were even softer. “I had reason to after she died. We didn’t have a lot at home to remember her by, not really, and I’ve never put much stock in physical objects. They can get damaged, or age. They’re nice to have, I won’t deny that, but they weren’t her. Not the way the shipping forecast was. It was-… actually, do you remember that first time you came to my office, and we listened to it live?”

Caleb nodded. “ _Ja_ ,” he said. “ _Ja_ , I do.”

“I didn’t tell you at the time, because it didn’t seem really fitting or suitable, but that was the closest I’d felt to her in a while. It was like another little step towards her memory, you know? It was something a little bit out of the ordinary, a little bit special. Not just because you were there, of course, though that certainly made it special on its own, but because it wasn’t something that I normally did. Normally, I just listen to what I can find. Old weather, you know? But when we listened to it together… that was live weather. That was what’s actually out there, on the ocean, where her ship was sailing. If she was still alive, that’s what she would be experiencing.” Caduceus gave a soft sigh, his ears flicking. “It’s different,” he murmured. “Not in a good way, or a bad way. It’s just different. But I like it.”

“I like it too,” Caleb said quietly. “I am- I’m glad I could help you feel closer to your sister. And… Caduceus?”

“Mm?”

“…Thank you for sharing this with me.” Caleb hoped that Caduceus knew what he meant. He desperately hoped that Caduceus knew what he meant. He hoped that Caduceus realised that he wasn’t just talking about _this_ , this sharing of information about family and loss, but about this entire scenario. He hoped that Caduceus realised that what Caleb was talking about, was _really_ talking about, was this moment, and all the ones that had come before it, where they had sat in the silence of the mycology department and listened to the shipping forecast together as, somewhere beneath the ocean waves, Clarabelle rested.

“I wanted to share it with you,” Caduceus replied, and Caleb knew that he understood. He looked down at Caleb, catching his eye and giving him a small, soft smile. “I wanted to share her memory with you. I wanted to tell you about her. She’s important to me, and so are you. It makes sense.”

Caleb felt his ears growing warm as he smiled back at Caduceus. “Thank you,” he said again. “You’re very important to me too, Caduceus. Thank you for telling me about your sister.”

“I’m sorry if it made this a bit, ah, a bit macabre-” Caduceus added, his ears drooping slightly, but Caleb quickly shook his head and cut him off, placing his mug of tea down to touch his free hand to Caduceus’ arm.

“No,” he said. “No, _nein_ , you haven’t. This is- it’s alright, actually. It’s fine. It’s- _ja_ , it’s a bit… uncommon, maybe, but I am accustomed to that with you. It’s part of who you are.” He turned slightly, nodding towards the open laptop. “And some people might say that _this_ is uncommon, too, or weird, or strange, but… we are all a bit unusual, aren’t we? You told me that.”

“Oh, yeah, that does sound like something I’d say,” Caduceus replied, and Caleb felt his chest grow warm when he noticed the slight smile on Caduceus’ face, the corners of his mouth just starting to curve up. “I like uncommon, though. Uncommon is good.”

“It is good,” Caleb agreed, feeling himself starting to smile too. Gods, but he loved Caduceus’ smile. He loved Caduceus’ smile, and he loved the warmth in his voice, and he loved the cadence of his speech, all careful and thoughtful and slow. He squeezed Caduceus’ hand gently, and a moment later felt Caduceus squeeze back. “I like your uncommon a lot, Caduceus.”

Caduceus’ ears _swish-swish_ ed, his smile widening, and Caleb felt his heart skip a beat. “Aw, thanks,” he said, his eyes crinkling a little as he smiled. “I like your uncommon, too. It’s a very good uncommon.”

“Mm, it is not as good as yours.”

“Oh? What makes you think that?”

Caleb shrugged awkwardly, feeling the familiar tendrils of doubt and anxiety starting to stretch through his mind. “I have- there are things that I have done that are not good,” he said quietly, the words feeling awkward and heavy on his tongue. He shouldn’t be saying them, and he knew that, but, for some reason, he wanted to. For some reason, he wanted Caduceus to know. “Things that have- that have made me uncommon and weird, at least in part.” _Anxiety. Trauma. Why I need to have Frumpkin with me_. “My weird is not as nice as yours is. It is not, um, as good as yours is.”

“Does it need to be?”

“It should be. I cannot- I can’t talk as easily as you can. Not about… this.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. It takes practise. But it’s worth it, though. It helps.”

Caleb opened his mouth, preparing to reply, and then shut it again. Even now, he hadn’t told anyone in Zadash about what had happened to his parents. Which was, admittedly, rather understandable, seeing how he struggled to mention it even to his therapist, but somehow, the more he listened to Caduceus, the stranger that seemed. He didn’t have to tell anyone how they died. He didn’t have to tell anyone his role in it. People didn’t need to know that.

People didn’t need to know that, and Caleb didn’t have to keep his parent’s memory all to himself.

Behind his eyes, in the quiet of his mind, he thought of a ship on the sea, buffeted by waves as a tall, slender fibolg woman walked across the deck, similar to Caduceus in so many ways and yet undeniably distinct. He thought of Clarabelle and Caduceus sitting in the same room together, Clarabelle listening to the shipping forecast and explaining what it meant to Caduceus. He thought of all the sibling antics he had been told of, thought of the tales that Caduceus had told him and of the fondness in his voice when he spoke of his sister. He thought of the strange, almost second-hand fondness that he now found within himself for Caduceus’ sister, this woman who he had never met and would never meet and yet found himself almost missing all the same. He would like to have met her, he thought. He would like to have been able to know the woman who Caduceus kept so close to his heart.

 _Memories are what keep people alive_. That was what Caduceus had said to him, standing before the snowdrops with a raven beneath the soil under their feet. _Not being buried below the ground. That only passes them on._

There was no one to pass on the memory of his parents but him. There was no one to remember them in his absence.

But, now, he wanted that to change.

He didn’t feel possessive of his parents’ memory any more, he realised. He didn’t feel like it was his to hold and care for, didn’t feel like sharing it would somehow diminish it the way he had been so afraid of. Caduceus didn’t forget Clarabelle just because he told Caleb about her. He didn’t lose the connection to her that he had. He just made the memory of her stronger, and if Caleb at some point told someone else about this wonderful firbolg that he’d heard of, then that would just make her memory stronger, too. It would be passed, in bits and pieces, from person to person, stretching out in a hundred little threads of stories like mycelium spreading beneath the earth, unseen but still present, connecting people together. It didn’t lose her. It grounded her. It made her memory real.

It made her memory alive.

Perhaps one day, Caleb thought, he could tell Caduceus about his parents. Perhaps one day he could tell him about his mother’s baking, and his father’s cooking, and his mother’s fondness for woodwork and his father’s fondness for gardening. Perhaps one day he could tell Caduceus the memories he had of them, and the life that had been theirs to live, and how they came to their end.

Perhaps, one day, his parents could become mycelium too.

Beyond the window, the rain continued to fall, the sound of it echoing against the walls and floors of the mycology department until it almost sounded like crashing waves. Caduceus was still and silent against Caleb’s side, seemingly content with what he had said, and Caleb couldn’t help but admire him for it. He couldn’t help but adore him for it.

“Caduceus?” he asked quietly, and Caduceus hummed, turning to look at him.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Caleb said again, and then he placed one hand on Caduceus’ waist, stretched up, and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter art has been added to [chapter 13](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161865/chapters/48847817)! Please go check it out if you haven't seen it already, because it is beautiful!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **October 7th!**
> 
> (And finally, for those curious about what a chicken made of biscuits looks like, you can see it [here](https://cdn.vox-cdn.com/thumbor/YuDMTMVcOj1IpuHs8UF2qLIFFQY=/0x0:1796x1132/1200x800/filters:focal\(755x423:1041x709\)/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/65171050/Screenshot_2019_09_04_at_17.30.38.0.png).)


	16. Chapter 16

“You know,” Caleb said one day, in the soft and still silence that so often followed an episode of the shipping forecast, “I don’t think I’ve been to your house before.”

He wasn’t sure what had prompted the statement. He hadn’t been thinking about much during the shipping forecast, instead just enjoying the peace and quiet and closeness that these meetings always provided, but at some point his mind must have wandered onto all of the dates that they had shared together at Caleb’s own house. They’d been on a couple of other dates since Caleb’s week away from the office, to Gilmore’s Glorious Grounds and to small, sweet, tucked-away lunch spots that Caduceus knew of, but somehow they’d never spent time together at Caduceus’ house, and Caleb wasn’t sure why.

“Funny you should say that,” Caduceus replied. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something about that.”

Caleb frowned slightly. There was nothing in Caduceus’ voice that gave any indication of what he was thinking about. He sounded just as calm and as level as ever, but that didn’t make Caleb any less curious. “Oh?” he asked. “What did you want to ask?”

“Well,” Caduceus replied, “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come round for dinner one day. I’d like to cook for you.”

Immediately, Caleb felt warmth flood his chest. It was a simple suggestion, and Caduceus had said it with the exact same tone and cadence with which he could discuss the weather, but Caleb could see Caduceus’ ears gently twitching, and could read the slight anxiety in them. He could feel Caduceus’ hand squeezing just a tiny bit harder around his own for a fleeting, barely-there moment.

Caleb smiled. “Would you do that?” he asked, his thumb stroking against the back of Caduceus’ hand, and Caduceus nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, and Caleb smiled wider when he felt Caduceus’ hand start to relax. “Yeah, absolutely, of course. It would be my pleasure. I quite like cooking, you know, especially for someone important to me. Now, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to cook up something for Frumpkin, unfortunately, but if you bring some of his food then I can give him a little bowl for it. Sort of, ah, letting him join in with us.”

In his lap, Caleb saw Frumpkin perk up a little at the sound of his name, lifting his head to look up at Caduceus. Caduceus laughed quietly, reaching across to gently scratch Frumpkin behind the ears, making him purr and nuzzle up into Caduceus’ hand. Caleb understood that reaction. He understood that reaction very well.

“Do you like the sound of that?” Caduceus asked, his voice low and rumbly-soft as he spoke to Frumpkin. Frumpkin purred louder, tilting his head this way and that as Caduceus started to scratch him under the chin. His long fingers were careful in their actions, delicate and precise, and Caleb couldn’t stop himself from squeezing Caduceus’ hand again, feeling the lines of his bones pressing against his skin. He loved Caduceus’ hands. He loved how careful they were, with Frumpkin and with dead lynxes and with Caleb himself, and he loved how soft the fine fur that covered them was, and he loved the little touches of pink that dusted the back of his hands, the colour now fading as winter started to truly settle in. “Do you want to join us, Frumpkin?”

Caleb gave a small laugh. “I think he does,” he commented, watching as Frumpkin half-stood in his lap to better press against Caduceus’ hand. “He seems very fond of you, _Herr_ Clay.”

“You think?”

“Oh, _ja_. It is hard not to be fond of you, though. You are very- you are very lovely.”

Caduceus’ ears swished, a smile blooming across his face. “Aw, thanks,” he said, looking up at Caleb even as he continued to pet Frumpkin. “You’re very lovely too, you know.”

Caleb felt his face reddening. “You are much too kind.”

“I’m not so sure of that. And I’m sure that many people in this museum would disagree. You’re a very lovely man, Caleb. I know that I’m very fond of you, and I know that plenty of other people are, too.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say in response to that. He’d never been very good at handling compliments, and now was no different, but, thankfully he didn’t feel like he _had_ to reply. Caduceus, he knew, never had any problems with silence, and when Caleb leaned up in lieu of replying, his gaze dropping to Caduceus’ lips, he hardly had to wait at all before Caduceus met him half-way for a kiss. It was a tiny thing, as fleeting and brief as all their kisses at work had been, but it kindled warmth behind Caleb’s ribs all the same, making him smile against Caduceus’ lips.

“So, dinner?” Caduceus asked once they parted. “What do you think?”

“I’d like that,” Caleb said. He could feel the smile on his face growing to truly ridiculous proportions, and was powerless to stop it. “I’d like that a lot.”

\---

They settled, for a number of reasons, on Friday. Caleb was never sure how long he’d end up speaking to Caduceus for, knowing from experience that several of their conversations at his house had only ended because of the pressing need to get to bed so that they could be rested for work the following morning, and he liked the idea that, if they were to get caught up in talk and conversation and cuddles and anything else that the night might entail after dinner, they wouldn’t have to worry about parting ways before they were ready. On a Friday they could talk for as long as they liked, until the sun rose again and the waking morning world greeted them once more.

On Friday, perhaps, Caleb could even stay over.

He hadn’t discussed it with Caduceus, but he hadn’t wanted to. He still wasn’t entirely sure of where his own boundaries lay, not in the wake of Rexxentrum, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of staying at Caduceus’ place, of sharing a bed with him, sounded more than lovely. He wanted that, wanted that closeness and that comfort, but he felt that if he were to say that to Caduceus then he would commit himself to it. He knew, logically, that Caduceus wouldn’t mind at all if he were to agree to it with him and then change his mind on the day, but he didn’t want to do that. Staying the night at Caduceus’, he decided, could wait.

When the time came for them to discuss a suitable day, Caleb kept that thought to himself, and told Caduceus everything else that had come to his mind.

Caduceus agreed that Friday sounded very, very good.

And so, at the end of the day on Friday, Caleb left his office just a few minutes earlier than normal to absolutely no reaction from Nott, and made his way over to Caduceus’ office, his bag hanging from his shoulder and Frumpkin trotting along at his feet, stretching his legs before Caleb had to clip him back into his harness and swing him up onto his shoulders for the journey to Caduceus’. He met Caduceus just inside the office, stretching up to press a quick kiss to his lips in greeting, and then he followed Caduceus out of the museum and to the bus stop that took them to Caduceus’ house. The journey there passed in near-silence, neither of them feeling any particular urge to speak up and converse, but Caleb couldn’t deny that, with every passing minute, he felt just a little bit more excitement gather in his belly. He still didn’t know what they were, still didn’t care to know exactly what label their relationship fell under, but he felt that this step was, in some small way, significant. Caduceus had already seen Caleb, and his life, but Caleb had not seen his in the same way. Not until today.

Eventually, the bus dropped them off. It was only a short walk from the bus stop to Caduceus’ house but Caleb held his hand the whole way there, delighting in the contrast of the cold winter air and the warmth of Caduceus’ touch against his skin. When they arrived, Caduceus waited patiently for Frumpkin to finish his check of the ground floor before entering along with Caleb, taking his coat for him, and hanging it up, and making Caleb laugh and flush with how courteous he was generally being.

“I’m just being polite,” Caduceus replied, his voice level and calm, but Caleb could see his ears swishing gently with delight, and when he stretched up to kiss him he could feel Caduceus smiling against his lips.

“You are being _charming_ ,” Caleb murmured, dropping down from being on tip-toes. “That is not to say that you aren’t always charming, of course, but this is… I feel like you are being especially charming today, _Herr_ Clay.”

“Ah, well… I suppose I might be,” Caduceus admitted, and Caleb couldn’t help but kiss him again. He could feel the excitement and delight bubbling in his chest, glowing warm and wonderful like sunlight. They weren’t even doing anything particularly special, but it felt important all the same, at the same time that it felt entirely normal. This was a new event, a benchmark event, but it didn’t feel unexpected. It felt… natural. Comfortable. It felt like this was something that they did all the time, and when Caduceus led him through to the little shared living and dining space that connected to his kitchen, Caleb felt little of the usual anxiety of being in someone else’s space that he usually felt. There was still some of it, and he suspected that there always would be, but it wasn’t enough to make him uncomfortable. It wasn’t enough to make him panic. This was just Caduceus’ home. That was all.

And, somehow, by some wonder, Caduceus felt that Caleb belonged here.

“What are we going to be having for dinner?” Caleb asked as Caduceus wandered through into the kitchen, settling down in the chair at the dining table that Caduceus had told him to get comfortable in and leaning back slightly in an attempt to see through into the kitchen. He heard the sound of running water, followed by Caduceus’ laugh, and a moment later Caduceus appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

“You’ll see,” he said, smiling. “You said you weren’t allergic to anything, didn’t have any specific dietary requirements, and aren’t a particularly picky eater, so I thought I’d surprise you. It’s, ah, firbolg cooking.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, but he could feel himself smiling. He couldn’t help it. He always seemed to be smiling around Caduceus. “Firbolg cooking?”

“Yeah. It’s something my parents used to make for my and my siblings. It’s good food. I think you’d like it.”

“I’m sure that I will. Beauregard has assured me that you are a very good cook.”

“Oh, did you tell her that this was happening?”

Caleb shook his head. “Oh, _nein_. I am- I am still not quite ready to, um, let everyone else know about- about this.” About them. About whatever they were. “But she has mentioned it off-hand, in the past. Apparently you sometimes cook or bake something for Jester’s winter parties.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I do do that.” Caduceus fell silent for a moment, his ears gently swishing back and forth. “Say,” he said after a moment, “do you think you’d like to join me in that one day? Baking something?”

Caleb blinked. “I- _ja_. Yes,” he said immediately, nearly stumbling over his words in his haste to say them. “I would- I would like that a lot, Caduceus.”

“That’s great,” Caduceus replied, starting to smile. “That’s really great, Caleb. Hey, if you’d like, we could plan it over dinner?”

“I like the sound of that,” Caleb said softly. “I like the sound of that a lot.”

Caduceus smiled wider. “Great,” he replied. “Then you just sit there, and I’ll make dinner as quickly as I can.”

Caleb smiled to himself, settling back in his seat as he heard Caduceus start bustling around the kitchen. He felt Frumpkin shifting a little by his feet beneath the table, but after a few moments he settled down, apparently content and certain in the safety of Caduceus’ home. Through the open door of the kitchen Caleb could just about make out the shape of Caduceus moving around; he could hear the quiet sound of a knife slicing vegetables, and of an oven steadily heating up. It was nice. Occasionally he heard Caduceus start humming to himself, or start murmuring parts of the recipe under his breath to himself – Caleb still wasn’t sure exactly what they were having, but he didn’t mind. He trusted Caduceus. Whatever Caduceus made for him, he knew that it would be good. This was a good surprise, a _safe_ surprise, one that was pleasant instead of just unpleasantly startling and jarring.

The whole situation was, all things considered, almost unbelievably domestic.

“Oh, hey,” Caduceus said out of the soft, comfortable quiet, “did you see that Molly came back to the museum yesterday?”

Caleb shifted slightly, startled out of his slight daze. “Mm, _ja_ ,” he replied. “I think that the entire museum must have heard him return.”

From the kitchen, Caleb heard Caduceus chuckle quietly. “Ah, yeah, that sounds like Molly. He can be a bit, ah…”

“Vocal?” Caleb suggested. “Loud? Talkative?”

“Yeah, talkative. That’s one way of putting it. He means well, though. Did you meet him?”

Caleb sighed, remembering the events of the previous day. “I did. Nott insisted that I meet him. She said that if anyone was going to have the privilege of introducing me to Mollymauk and seeing my reaction first-hand, she wanted to be the one to do it.” He paused, and then added, “That, and I think that she won some sort of bet with Beauregard. I didn’t ask what it was.”

Caduceus laughed again. “Yeah, that sounds like them. What did you think of him, though? You’d not met him before, right?”

“Mm, _ja_ , that’s right. He’d left before I started working here. And Mollymauk was…” Loud. Bright. More flamboyant than a peacock in mating season and twice as colourful. Caleb had heard tales on Mollymauk, had seen pictures of the purple-haired, red-eyed, lavender-skinned tiefling with pierced horns and a tattooed face and a jacket that he had, according to a quietly proud and fond Yasha, embroidered by hand with patterns based off a whole realm of artworks and tattoos and symbols that he’d found in various historical books, but pictures had done little to prepare Caleb for meeting the actual individual. Caleb wasn’t going to argue that Mollymauk had been nice – he’d stood by and watched as he’d approached his friends, sweeping up into hugs those that he could sweep up (Nott), and being swept up by those he couldn’t sweep up (Yasha and Keg). Caleb rather suspected that Jester would have swept Mollymauk up too, but she’d been off somewhere else in the museum with Caduceus when Mollymauk unexpectedly arrived back. According to Nott, who’d whispered the information up to him, Mollymauk just seemed to do that, sometimes; he’d take a work visit to some other museum for an unspecified period of time, sometimes jumping around other museums while he was away, and then he’d return with ridiculous gifts, and a whole host of stories, and would settle back into life as if he’d never left. Sometimes, Nott had continued, Yasha went with him.

Caleb had just had enough time to look at Yasha before Mollymauk approached him, and then everything became a blur of colour.

Caleb coughed, suddenly aware that his contemplative pause had stretched on for too long. “Enthusiastic,” he finished eventually. “Um. A bit loud, honestly, but he seemed very nice. He said that he had been very excited to meet me. Apparently Jester had been texting him a lot about the ‘new guy’.”

“That sounds like Jester and Molly,” Caduceus said, his words edged with a soft chuckle. “Mollymauk’s very good. He can be a lot to handle, but he means well. He cares a lot about his friends.”

“Nott told me that one time he and Beau got lost in town at 2am after taking drugs together.”

“Yeah, he does that too. He cares, but that doesn’t stop him from doing slightly, ah… slightly _stranger_ things too.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “ _Ja_ , I got that impression.” He shifted a little in his chair, reaching up to absently scratch at his chin. “He seems like an interesting character.” At his feet, Caleb felt Frumpkin shift a little, raising his head to sniff cautiously at the air.

And then, loud and clear about every other sound in the house, Caleb heard it. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it stood out sharp and bright above everything else that he could hear, cutting through the air like a razor, flashing silver through his mind over and over and over again with every quiet, repetitive click.

From the kitchen, Caleb heard the clicking of a gas stove searching for a spark.

This wasn’t the false sound of the plumbing in the museum. This wasn’t the rapid ticking of a metronome that had so nearly triggered him once at Wulf’s house. This was the sound, and Caleb knew it. He knew it as well as he knew his own heartbeat, as though the waveform of it had been etched into every single one of his nerves and neurons. It was a gas stove sparking. It was what he had done.

_It was his fault_.

All around Caleb, the world fell flat. It didn’t lose colour, didn’t fade away, but it became utterly unimportant, losing focus as though it were a poorly tuned radio signal, overlaid with static until no words made their way through anymore. There weren’t any words from this world. There wasn’t any sound. All there was was the clicking of the stove, and the taste of gas on Caleb’s tongue, and every single awful, lung-squeezing memory breaking free from the boxes he normally kept them in and flooding his mind all at once.

Some part of Caleb’s mind, the rational part that kept him alive, spoke up, reminding him of his breathing and grounding exercises, but it was too late. He couldn’t hear that part of his brain, couldn’t focus on it when all he could see was the fire roiling and roaring, consuming every inch of his house until nothing remained but embers and the blackened, charred, metallic skeleton of the stove. Caleb shut his eyes tightly, squeezing his hands into fists so tight he could feel his nails breaking through flesh, but the pain was a distant one, faint and unimportant. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere. He was in Caduceus’ house and he was back at his family home and it was autumn and it was winter and he _knew_ the stove had a gas leak, he _knew_ it, he’d bought some festive candles for his mother but he hadn’t lit any because it wasn’t safe but he thought he’d overheard them saying that it was fixed. He’d heard them in the kitchen, standing by the stove and discussing the situation, and from the top of the stairs it had sounded like the leak was fixed and the house was clear and like everything was okay and fine and _safe_ and like Caleb could finally light the candles like he wanted to, and so he had.

And then he’d left to go to the shops, because his Mutter had sent him to get groceries.

By the time he’d returned, the house had been little more than rubble and ruin.

“Caleb?” someone said, but the word sounded distant, far away and unimportant. Caleb shut his eyes tighter still, pressing his head into his hands as though he could physically force the memories back inside his skull, but all he could see was smoke and ash and billowing, roaring, _hungry_ flames. He could feel his heart inside his chest, pounding as though it was trying to shatter his ribcage from within, and he could hear his pulse thrumming away beneath the ringing in his ears and through it all he could taste gas on the back of his tongue, could feel it filling up his lungs like oil, and knew that he was to blame.

_Your fault_ , he heard himself say in the soot-hung memories inside him skull. _Your fault, your fault, your fault_.

“Caleb?” the voice said again, and some part of Caleb recognised the voice as belonging to Caduceus. Caleb thought he sounded more concerned but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of _anything_ right now, not of where he was, or what year it was, or anything like that. He _knew_ , with the logical part of his brain that was just about managing to stay afloat, that he was in Zadash, that he was in Caduceus’ house, and that many, many years had passed since the fire that had claimed his family, but it was so hard to hear that part of his brain over everything else. “Caleb? Caleb, are you alright?”

Caleb didn’t reply. He _couldn’t_ reply. He wasn’t _there_ , wasn’t in Zadash at all, and he could _feel_ his heart echoing through his body, could feel his racing and could feel his breath coming shorter and he could feel Frumpkin jumping up into his lap, purring furiously and pressing up against his face and hands, but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t _there_ , his lungs weren’t working and his heart wasn’t slowing and he couldn’t fucking _breathe_ without tasting gas and soot and smoke and wanting to throw up until his entire body was as empty as the shell of his house.

From the kitchen Caleb thought he heard a clattering sound, followed by the swift sound of footsteps, and a moment later he felt two large hands coming to settle on his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Caleb?” Caduceus asked again, and there was worry in his voice now, true and genuine and overlaid with concern and confusion and fear. “Are you alright? Hey, come on, can you look up? Can you look at me?”

“ _Gas_ ,” Caleb managed to choke out. “It’s- _gas_ , Caduceus, there is-” He cut himself off, drawing in a shaking, rattling, horrible breath.

“Well, yeah,” Caduceus replied, sounding confused. “I have a gas stove, is that-”

Caleb felt his stomach lurch. He jerked forwards, dropping his hands from his face so that he could grab the edge of the table and _squeeze_. “It’s _bad_ ,” he said, the words awful and half-garbed as though they were being wrenched from his lungs. “It is- it’s _bad_ , it’s a trigger, I am- I’m- _Caduceus-_ ”

He should be going home. He knew that. He should be calming himself using the grounding techniques he learned all those years ago, and he should be collecting his things, and letting Frumpkin do his job, and then he should politely excuse himself and make his way back home to a known safe space where he could decompress further until he felt calm again. He should be doing all of that. He should be leaving as soon as he was able to.

But he couldn’t.

And he couldn’t because he couldn’t leave Caduceus alone. Not here. Not when there might still be gas hanging in the air, just waiting for a single loose spark to send it bursting into flame. Caleb knew all too well how easily sparks could be generated. He knew all too well how easily a fire could start. He couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ , leave Caduceus alone here. Not comfortably. Not safely. Not without inviting more panic to settle in his lungs and choke him until he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to gasp out, and immediately curled in on himself again.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Caduceus said, and beneath his words Caleb could hear the edge of concern and uncertainty, the clear indication that Caduceus didn’t entirely know what to do. “I mean, the situation isn’t okay, clearly, but it’s okay that you’re panicking, if that makes sense. This is- it’s a very normal response. You’re-…” He trailed off, his thumbs rubbing absently against Caleb’s shoulders, and then, after a few seconds, continued. “…Do you want to go sit down somewhere? Somewhere nicer than here?”

Caleb nodded. It was about all he could do.

“Alright,” Caduceus murmured. “Alright, okay, let’s see…” There was a soft rustle of motion, and then the gentle pressure that had been resting on Caleb’s shoulders shifted, gently tugging him from his chair. He went with it as best he could, standing on legs made weak by fear and panic, and somehow managed to walk the short distance to the couch with Caduceus by his side, flopping down on the couch and against Caduceus’ chest the moment he reached it. He could still feel himself panicking, his breath coming short and jagged and awful in his chest, and after barely a moment Caduceus’ arms raised to settle around him, holding him tight as though they could force the memories back into their boxes. Maybe that was Caduceus’ intent. It probably wasn’t. Caleb didn’t know. He didn’t have the brain-space to know, didn’t have the energy to care, didn’t have the ability to focus on anything but _fire_ and _panic_ and _fear_ and with some tiny, distant part of his brain, on getting himself under control again.

“Hey,” Caduceus murmured, and the sound of his voice so close to Caleb’s ear was so reassuring and comforting that he nearly sobbed. Perhaps he did. He couldn’t tell. “Hey, you’re alright. I don’t- I don’t know what you’re seeing, but you’re alright. You’re here. You’re not at fault, Caleb. You’re okay. You’re safe. This isn’t your fault.”

Caleb felt another sob catch in his chest again. He burrowed in closer, pressing himself as close as he could to Caduceus’ body as Caduceus continued to talk. Every word that Caduceus said was soothing to him, reaching down into his mind and gently quieting the roar of the flames, until, eventually, Caleb was present enough to use his own calming techniques. He didn’t know how much time passed while they were on the couch, but after some period of time – maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour – he finally, _finally,_ felt present enough to speak.

“Caduceus?” Caleb mumbled, and Caduceus fell silent immediately.

“Yeah?”

Caleb drew in a breath. There were still too many thoughts and memories in his mind, was still too much going on, but he was present enough to see one thought that was standing clear and bright, shining out above all the others. He needed to mention it. He needed to say it. He needed to ask Caduceus something very, very important.

“Could you stay at mine tonight?” Caleb asked. He hated how his voice sounded. He hated how weak he sounded, how feeble, hated how his voice wavered and cracked even as it was muffled by Caduceus’ chest. He hated that even now, so many years on, he still couldn’t hear the sound of a gas stove sparking without feeling himself being seventeen all over again, numb and terrified as he watched the ashes fall. “I don’t- the gas- it’s not _safe_ here, Caduceus, I can’t have you- you can’t-”

“Hey,” Caduceus interrupted. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.”

“It _isn’t_ -”

“No, I know, I didn’t mean that this whole situation is alright. But we’re safe, okay? You’re okay. I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

“I’m okay,” Caleb mumbled. He _was_ okay. He knew that. He was shaky, and he was nervous, and he’d just had a fucking panic attack while on a perfectly sweet, perfectly charming and wonderful dinner date, but he was okay. The fire wasn’t happening now. The fire wasn’t here. He would be okay.

He just needed to believe that.

He just needed Caduceus to be okay, too.

Caleb took a few deep, calming breaths, and then tried again. “I don’t want you to stay here,” he said, and by some miracle the words barely wavered at all. “If I go home, and you stay here, I will spend all night worrying that this house will go up in flames with you inside it. I will go home if you want me to, and I will not force you to accompany me because it is not my place to do that, but I am-” _terrified of losing you_ “-concerned. Um. Very concerned.” Caleb sighed, leaning back a bit to scrub a hand over his face. “I know that it is stupid,” he muttered. “I know that- I know that your house is fine, and is probably safe, but I can’t- I _can’t_. I can’t stop thinking about it, Caduceus.”

“No, no, that’s alright. That sounds really sensible, actually. I’d like to do that. I’d be happy to stay at yours tonight, Caleb,” Caduceus replied. Caleb felt him shift, and a moment later he felt Caduceus press a kiss to the top of his head. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of them, and he refused to let them fall. “I can do that. Do you want me to call a taxi?”

“…Would you? I don’t want to be a-”

“You’re not being a bother, Caleb,” Caduceus said, and there was nothing in his voice other than absolute, complete honesty. “This isn’t your fault. You’re not the problem here. It’s alright.”

_But I **am** the problem, _Caleb wanted to say. _I am the problem here. I ruined this. I ruined our date. I ruined our date because I’m still not over something that happened over fifteen years ago, because I still get triggered from the sound of a gas stove firing, because Frumpkin meowed at me just once and I broke. This is my fault. I am the problem_.

Almost distantly, he felt Caduceus kiss his head again, one large hand running up and down his spine in slow, soothing strokes. He could feel the warmth of it through his shirt, could feel the carefulness and care in Caduceus’ touch, but there was no pity there. There was no delicacy. Caduceus wasn’t treating him like he was made of glass, wasn’t treating him like some shattered, delicate things, even when he so blatantly was. He was just cuddling Caleb the way he always cuddled Caleb on the sofa, holding him close and warm and giving him whatever affection he wanted.

“It’s alright,” Caduceus murmured again, his voice soft enough and low enough that it felt like distant thunder in Caleb’s bones, echoing through his body and gently shifting his thoughts back into place. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault.”

_It is_ , Caleb wanted to say, but didn’t. He shut his eyes tighter still, pressing his face to Caduceus’ neck as he squeezed his arms tighter around him. He knew that it was his fault, knew it as certainly as he always had, but somehow, with Caduceus’ words settling around him like a mantle, the thought seemed quieter. It _was_ his fault. It would always be his fault. It was his fault that he was broken, and was his fault that his parents were dead, and it was his fault that he had ruined their date.

But it wasn’t his fault that it had happened. It wasn’t his fault that Caduceus had a gas stove. There was no way that Caleb could have controlled that. He could have asked, yes, but he couldn’t have controlled it.

In the snarled brambles of Caleb’s mind, the thought resonated like a tuning fork, clear and loud and definite. He couldn’t have controlled that. He couldn’t have controlled his reaction to the sound.

_This isn’t your fault_.

Somewhere in Caleb’s mind, so quietly and dimly that he himself barely noticed it, some part of him latched onto the words and accepted them.

“Come on,” Caduceus said quietly. He shifted a hand, gently pressing it to Caleb’s face until Caleb lifted his head, and was rewarded for his action by a swift kiss to the cheek. He could feel tears on his face, could feel the salt drying like ocean spray on his cheeks, but Caduceus didn’t seem to mind that the tears were there. He just smiled at Caleb, his face calm and relaxed even with an undercurrent of concern still present to be seen. “Come on,” he repeated. “Let’s get you home.”

Gently, steadily, Caduceus rose from the couch. He didn’t immediately move to help Caleb, giving him the space to move himself, and Caleb appreciated that. Even now, in the immediate aftermath of a full-on panic attack, he didn’t want to feel weak. He didn’t want to feel coddled. And he knew that he just had been, knew that Caduceus cuddling him on the couch, and reassuring him, and pressing kisses to his head was practically the very definition of coddling, but, somehow, it didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel like he was being smothered in care, didn’t feel like his actual feelings and worries were being ignored in favour of blind, directionless comfort.

“Give me just a moment?” Caduceus asked quietly. “I just need to head upstairs and pack a few things for your house. You know, pyjamas, toothbrush, all that. Will you be alright if I leave you for a moment?”

Caleb nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. “Mm, _ja_ ,” he mumbled. “I- I will be.” _I should be_.

Caduceus stopped down, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Caleb’s mouth. His hand was still on Caleb’s hip, a warm and grounding point of contact even where the rest of Caleb’s body and mind felt so awfully untethered from the rest of the world. “Okay,” Caduceus said softly. “Alright. Do you want to get Frumpkin ready to go while I pack? Give yourself something to keep your hands busy.”

That sounded like a good idea. Caleb nodded again, still not feeling up to much talking, and a moment later Caduceus kissed him once again, the press of his lips lingering against Caleb’s skin.

“Alright,” Caduceus murmured. “Alright…” He straightened up slowly, seeming reluctant to leave Caleb alone. “I’ll be back in just a moment. The taxi should be here soon, too.” He kissed Caleb once more and then, careful and uncertain, left to go upstairs.

For a moment, Caleb didn’t move at all. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything other than sit where he was and wait for the memories to pass, but he had to. He had to attach Frumpkin’s leash to his collar, and he had to collect his satchel, and he had to put on his own shoes and his own coat and make himself ready to go and put Frumpkin on his shoulder and there was so much to do, so many steps to deal with, and Caleb didn’t know where he should start or which ones he should prioritise or even how to get his own _fucking_ brain to function. He drew in a breath, feeling it rattle around his lungs, and was just about to start pressing his nails against his arms in an attempt to claw reason into his body when Frumpkin jumped into his lap and butted his head against Caleb’s hands, just as he’d been trained.

_Frumpkin_.

Caleb latched onto that thought as best he could. Caduceus had told him to get Frumpkin ready to go. Frumpkin was standing in his lap. Frumpkin was already in his harness. His leash was by the door. All Caleb had to do was stand, and take the leash, and attach it. Then he would be at the door. His shoes would be by the door, along with his coat. He could put those on. He could do _something_.

One step at a time.

Slowly, numbly, Caleb stood from the couch and made his way towards the door. He didn’t count his breaths as he moved but he did everything he could to keep them steady and measured, refusing to let himself fall into a pit of panic and indecision. He took Frumpkin’s leash from the hook, and then he crouched down and, so slowly, so carefully, clipped it onto Frumpkin’s harness.

One task down. Just a few more to go. Without looking up, without thinking about anything at all, Caleb reached out for his shoes. He loosened the laces slowly, feeling the rough-smooth texture of the cord beneath his fingertips, and then sat down on the floor to tug his shoes on. Then, just as slowly, just as carefully, he took the cord between his fingers and tied first one shoe, and then the other, relaxing into the empty, echoing silence of his mind and letting years of muscle memory take over. The cord passed beneath his fingers, moving from hand to hand, and then his shoes were tied. Two tasks down.

“Caleb?” Caleb heard someone say, but he didn’t focus on it. He had more tasks to do. He had to find his coat. He stood up, Frumpkin’s leash hanging loosely from his hand, and turned to look at the coat hooks. He knew what his coat looked like. It was brown, with a soft fleece lining that he liked to run his hands over when he got nervous. There was cat hair around the collar, ginger against the dark fabric.

“Caleb?” the voice said again, closer this time. Caleb hummed absently, reaching out for his coat and taking it from the peg. “Caleb, are you alright?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb mumbled. He tugged his coat on, carefully moving Frumpkin’s leash from one hand to the other. “I am just- you told me to get ready.”

“I did,” Caduceus replied, and Caleb fell still as a large, gentle hand came to settle on his shoulders. “And you’re doing really great at that. Is there anything else you needed to do?”

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “ _Ich- ja_. I left my- I need my satchel. It is…” By the door? By the dining table? Caleb wasn’t sure, and he hated it. He knew that it was _somewhere_ , knew that he had had it with him when he’d arrived, but he couldn’t fucking _think_ past the memories that were trying so desperately to swarm his mind, and with every passing second he could feel himself inching closer and closer back towards the panic. “It is- it’s- I don’t _know_ , Caduceus, it’s-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Caduceus interrupted quickly. He stepped round in front of Caleb, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s alright,” he murmured again. “You just stay there, okay? I’ll find your satchel for you, don’t worry. The taxi should be here soon, and then you’ll be home. Alright?”

“Alright,” Caleb echoed, and Caduceus kissed him again before vanishing. He returned some moments later with Caleb’s satchel in hand and a bag of his own dangling from his shoulder, and it was only a few minutes after that that the taxi arrived.

The taxi ride to Caleb’s house was a short one, or at least it felt like it. He wasn’t really sure of how much time was passing, wasn’t really sure of much at all, but the ride was somehow still long enough for him to start coming back to himself a little bit more, and by the time they arrived outside his house, he felt enough like himself to unlock the door as Caduceus paid the driver. He waited just long enough for Caduceus to join him and then wandered upstairs, Caduceus’ hand held in his own. They brushed their teeth in silence, got changed in Caleb’s bedroom as Frumpkin made himself comfortable down at the foot of the bed, and then suddenly Caleb was standing in his bedroom, and Caduceus was standing in soft-looking pyjamas on the other side of his bed, and everything was very, very real.

Caduceus smiled. “You ready to go to bed?” he asked quietly. “It’s alright if you’ve changed your mind, Caleb. I can always go home if you’d rather be alone, or I can sleep on the couch. I won’t mind.”

Caleb shook his head. “This is okay,” he said quietly. Even the thought of Caduceus going back to his own house, where there was gas and a gas stove and the faintest possibility of fire made Caleb feel sick with anxiety. “This is- I want you to be here, Caduceus, _bitte_.”

“Alright,” Caduceus said. He reached down, taking the corner of the duvet and gently lifting it. “Do you want to…?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb mumbled. “I- _ja_. Let’s go to bed.” He climbed into bed before he could think about it too much, settling down between the familiar sheets, and a moment later he felt the bed dip beside him as Caduceus joined him. In the soft, half-there light of the autumn night Caleb could just about make out Caduceus’ features staring back at him from across the pillow, but he couldn’t feel Caduceus. There was still a gap between them, no wider than a hand-span, but greater than Caleb was able to cross right now. He wanted to cross it. He so, so desperately wanted to cross it, so desperately wanted to reach out, and move in closer, and curl up against Caduceus and take the comfort that he so desperately needed, but for some stupid, awful reason, his brain wouldn’t let him. For some reason, his brain was certain that this was pushing things too far.

_Caduceus wanted this too_ , Caleb reminded himself. _He wanted this. He agreed to it. He offered to leave._

_This is alright_.

Caduceus smiled, and his eyes were dyed rose and gold by the light of the streetlamps. “Hey,” he said softly, and Caleb had to shut his eyes, feeling the warmth of Caduceus’ voice washing over him. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“ _Ja,”_ Caleb mumbled. “It is.”

“Mm. It’s comfy. I like this a lot.”

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut tighter still. He could feel Caduceus’ voice in his bones, rumbling through them until he felt that his entire body was resonating at the same frequency as Caduceus’ words, slowing the pace of his heart until, little by little, he found himself breathing in sync with Caduceus. With each passing second he felt himself relaxing further, the tension that had been holding tight to his entire body gradually melting away beneath the warmth of Caduceus’ voice.

Caleb wished that Caduceus would hold him. He wished that he was brave enough to ask.

There was a brief, tiny pause.

And then, as though Caduceus had read the thought and the wish directly from Caleb’s mind, Caduceus reached across the bed towards him and placed a hand on Caleb’s waist, giving the faintest of tugs.

“This alright?” he murmured, his words soft in the eiderdown darkness. “I know you’re fine with cuddling on the couch and all, but I just wanted to check that this is okay. I don’t want to assume anything and make you uncomfortable.”

_Gods_. Caleb felt his heart squeeze at Caduceus’ words, at the gentleness that he could feel threaded through every single one of them. There was no deceit in his tone, was no suggestion of teasing. Caduceus was entirely serious about everything that he said, and Caleb knew it. Caduceus was entirely serious about making sure that Caleb was alright, and Caleb adored him for it more than he knew how to put into words.

“This is alright,” Caleb replied quietly. He reached out himself, curling one hand gently in the soft fabric of the t-shirt that Caduceus was wearing for his pyjamas. “This is- I want this.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm, _ja_. I like cuddling with you, Caduceus. You know that. You are very comforting to me.”

In the darkness of the room, Caleb could barely see the shape of Caduceus’ ears silhouetted against the golden glow of the streetlamps outside, but he knew that they were swishing. He could hear it in Caduceus’ voice when he replied.

“Aw, I’m really glad,” Caduceus said, and for just a moment Caleb had to shut his eyes and breathe. He could hear the smile in Caduceus’ voice. He knew what it looked like on his face, knew how it felt against his lips. He knew Caduceus, and Caduceus knew him. Caduceus knew all of him. And Caduceus didn’t care. “Come here,” Caduceus said, his voice soft and fond and so, so reassuring and comforting that Caleb could feel it filling it up like sunlight. He tugged at Caleb’s hip again, just barely, and Caleb moved with it easily. He shifted on the bed, letting Caduceus draw him in closer until he was half-curled against Caduceus’ chest, Caduceus’ arms around him and their legs tangled together, so closely interwoven that Caleb was hard pressed to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Beneath the thin layer of Caduceus’ pyjama top he could feel the gentle curve of his ribs pressing against his skin; he could see the tufts of pale pink hair poking above the neck of the shirt, could see the delicate line of Caduceus’ neck and the sharp edges of his collarbones. He could feel Caduceus’ chest expanding with every inhale of breath, slow and steady and sure, and beneath his head, echoing through his skull, he could hear Caduceus’ heart beating away.

“You comfy there?” Caduceus asked, his words more felt than heard, and Caleb gave a small hum of confirmation. Caduceus huffed out a short breath of laughter, warm enough to make Caleb shiver all over, and ran a hand along Caleb’s back, the action slow and steady and indescribably, unspeakably reassuring. “Good. That’s good. You feel less tense now than you did earlier.”

“…I felt tense?” Caleb asked.

“Oh, yeah. You were really holding a lot of tension just all over, not even just in your shoulders. Just… everywhere. Which makes a lot of sense, considering the situation, but it was still very impressive. And also concerning, actually. But it seems to be going away now.” Caduceus ran a hand up Caleb’s back, settling it between his shoulders. “Mm, yeah, it’s getting there. If there’s still some knots in your shoulders in the morning I could try and work them out for you, if you’d like.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Molly used to say that I give pretty good massages. I’m not the strongest, but he said I seemed to know what I was doing. I could try doing that for you.”

“…You are much too good for me, Caduceus,” Caleb murmured quietly, and he felt Caduceus shaking his head.

“No,” Caduceus replied quietly. “That’s really sweet of you to say, but I’m really not. I just care about you, and I want to help where I can. That’s all.”

Caleb shifted a little, cuddling in impossibly closer as he listened to Caduceus speak. He wanted to be closer, _needed_ to be closer. He could feel Caduceus’ words echoing through his chest, sinking into his ribs and heart and lungs and insinuating themselves throughout his entire body, and they both calmed and warmed him simultaneously. He wasn’t going to argue with them. Not here. Not now, with memories of fire still circling his skull.

For a moment, Caleb shut his eyes, trying to force his mind away from the memories and towards Caduceus’ words instead. He had Caduceus’ chest beneath his head, had his hands pressed warm to Caduceus’ back, but it somehow wasn’t enough. His brain was still twitchy and jittery, even now, with the danger long since passed. He knew that this was to be expected, knew that he couldn’t just recover from being triggered in the blink of an eye and go on like everything was fine, but he still hated it. He was tired, physically and mentally exhausted in the aftermath of his panic attack, and he should be drifting off to sleep as easily as anything, but he couldn’t. He had Caduceus’ arms around him, holding him tight, and he could feel Caduceus’ breath brushing the top of his head, and he was home, and he had Frumpkin curled up at the foot of his bed, and there were no gas leaks here, he was _sure_ of it, he was safe and alright and he _knew_ it but he still couldn’t relax, not entirely. He still couldn’t unwind. He felt better now, undeniably so, but not settled, not yet.

Caleb swallowed. “…Caduceus?”

“Mm, yeah?”

“Would you… I am sorry, this is going to sound so stupid….”

“No, no, go ahead, it’s alright.”

Caleb sighed, shutting his eyes. “…Would you play with my hair?” he asked quietly. “I know that- you said that it makes you sleepy when someone does it to you, and I can’t relax and I was- I was wondering if there was a chance that it might do the same for me.”

“Oh, yeah, I can do that,” Caduceus replied easily. There was no judgement in his voice, was no indication that he found Caleb’s request annoying or frustrating or in any way childish. He could have responded like that, and Caleb knew it, but he had worried anyway. _Caduceus isn’t Astrid_ , he told himself. _Caduceus understands. Caduceus cares._

Astrid had cared too, but not like this. She had tried, in her own sharp, driving way to help Caleb with his problems, and while the good intentions had been there, the ability to listen and adapt hadn’t been. Caduceus, Caleb knew, was always willing to listen. Caduceus was always willing to change.

Caduceus was willing to listen to whatever Caleb said he thought might calm him, was willing to listen to Caleb telling him what to do in the middle of a panic attack, and he was willing to follow every single one of Caleb’s instructions to the letter. He trusted Caleb to know his own brain in a way that Caleb had never fully felt that Astrid had. He trusted Caleb, always, without question.

And Caleb trusted him.

There was a soft rustling of fabric, and then a moment later Caleb felt Caduceus’ fingers start carding through his hair. The touch was light, gentle and very nearly cautious, but it was present enough for the worried edges of Caleb’s mind to latch onto it. Caduceus’ actions were repetitive, his hand running slowly through Caleb’s hair and over his scalp, and almost without realising it, Caleb felt himself starting to relax further, the last shreds of tension and fear being soothed away by Caduceus’ hands.

“Is this working?” Caduceus asked softly, just as Caleb was on the edge of starting to doze off. He nodded slightly, feeling Caduceus’ hands catching gently in his hair.

“Mm,” he mumbled. “Mm, _ja_. It is- you are very good with your hands, Caduceus.”

Caduceus laughed quietly. “Yeah?”

“ _Ja_. I understand why this might make you fall asleep.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” Caleb shifted a little on the bed, tilting his head up to press an absent, sleepy kiss to Caduceus’ cheek. “Thank you, _Liebling_.”

“What does that word mean? _Liebling?”_

Caleb started slightly. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d said the word at all. He’d been so content, so comfortable, so far from the panic and fear of earlier that the endearment had left his lips entirely without his notice. But, somehow, the knowledge of it didn’t concern him. Despite everything, despite his own constant anxiety and uncertainty and how long it had even taken him to realise that he liked Caduceus, he felt comfortable with telling him what the word meant. He didn’t worry that Caduceus wouldn’t like it, that he wouldn’t enjoy being called _liebling_. Caduceus _would_ like it. Caleb knew that.

Caduceus would love it.

Unseen by Caduceus, Caleb smiled.

“It means _darling_ ,” he said quietly. “It is- it’s Zemnian. It’s a term of endearment.”

“Oh!” Caduceus exclaimed softly, and there was nothing in his voice but absolute, genuine delight. “Oh, that’s lovely. That’s really sweet. _Liebling_. I like that. Am I saying it right?”

“You are.” He was saying it better than Caleb had expected, actually. The word wasn’t perfect, the accent just slightly off, but Caleb couldn’t deny how lovely it sounded on Caduceus’ tongue, the sound of it further softened by Caduceus deep, rumbling voice. The word had always sounded warm to Caleb – it reminded him of the comfort and safety of his family home, of talking with his parents and watching from the windows as the gold and amber leaves fell in autumn. He still felt that same comfort and warmth from Caduceus’ voice, but it was different, subtly changed towards something more akin to a hearth fire, smouldering slow and steady and warming Caleb down to the bone. It was nice. It was very nice.

Caleb drew in a breath. “…Caduceus?”

“Mm?”

“Would you say it again?”

There wasn’t even a beat of hesitation. “ _Liebling_ ,” Caduceus said. “ _Liebling_. It’s a really nice word that, Caleb. I like it. It feels nice to say, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Mm. _Liebling_. That’s nice.”

“ _Liebling_ ,” Caleb mumbled, shuffling down a little in the bed to make himself more comfortable. He could feel sleep tugging at his mind again, drawing him down into the velvet-soft darkness of slumber. “ _Liebling_ …”

“Yeah,” Caduceus murmured. “ _Liebling_. Get some sleep, _liebling._ I’m right here. We’re both safe. It’s safe here. Frumpkin will let you know if it isn’t – you can trust him to do that. He’s a very good cat.”

Despite himself, Caleb gave a small huff of weak laughter. “He _is_ a very good cat,” he agreed, his words punctuated by an exhausted yawn, and a moment later Caduceus kissed him again, his lips soft against Caleb’s skin.

“And he’ll let you know if anything happens,” Caduceus continued quietly. “So you can get your sleep, and you don’t have to worry about me because I’m right here, too. I’m safe, and you’re safe, and we’re both safe, and Frumpkin is going to do his job just like he’s been trained if you- if anything happens.”

Caleb nodded slightly. “Yeah,” he muttered. Caduceus was right, even if he wasn’t aware of just how correct he was. Caleb had Frumpkin for a reason after all, and it was to do more than just be his therapy cat. He wasn’t going to deny that Frumpkin’s jobs in that role were important – he’d lost count of how many times Frumpkin had got between him and his clawing nails when he’d been panicking or dissociating, or of how many times Frumpkin had provided him with pressure and a tactile stim when he’d been anxious or nervous – but they weren’t the original reason he’d gotten a service animal. Those jobs had all come later, when he’d been discussing the exact role that Frumpkin would fulfil with his therapist.

He’d first got Frumpkin because, one day, he had looked his therapist in the eye, and, in the calmest tones that he could muster, told her that even now, years later, he could never feel calm in a new place because he was always worried that there was gas in a room that he couldn’t smell. That was why Frumpkin was there – to provide Caleb with the reassurance that there really was no gas hanging around to catch alight.

For as long as Frumpkin was silent, Caleb was safe.

“Yeah,” Caleb mumbled again, feeling the last vestiges of his fear starting to fade. He had Frumpkin, and Frumpkin would let him know if anything was amiss. “You’re- _ja_ , he will. He’s a good cat.”

Caduceus kissed him again. “Get some sleep, Caleb,” he said fondly, his words rumbling through Caleb’s body. Caleb hummed quietly, absently nuzzling against Caduceus’ chest. Caduceus was warm against him, slender and angular and bony but surprisingly comfortable all the same, and Caleb already knew how much he liked cuddling him. He already knew how comforting he found Caduceus’ touch, and Caduceus’ presence, and Caduceus’ voice. He already knew how comforting he found Caduceus. He already knew that he always seemed to sleep better after cuddling with Caduceus, even if part of him longed to have Caduceus in his bed.

He didn’t have to long for that anymore. He didn’t have to wish. He didn’t have to listen to Caduceus’ voice over the phone, or think about how he’d said goodbye to Caduceus at the door not even an hour earlier, and wonder what it would be like if he had found the courage to ask Caduceus to stay the night. He knew, now, what it was like. He knew how Caduceus’ pyjama pants were just a bit too short, showing off his knobbly ankles. He knew how Caduceus had to curl up a little to fit in his human-sized bed. He knew how Caduceus’ voice sounded in the soft and the still and the dark, with all the world kept at bay beyond the walls of his house.

He knew that it was wonderful.

In the darkness of his room, with Caduceus’s arms warm around him and Caduceus’ heart steady beneath his head, Caleb closed his eyes, and slept.

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both pieces of art in this chapter were done by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt) on Twitter!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **October 14th!**


	17. Chapter 17

Caleb woke, and all the world was softness.

His eyes were shut, but he could tell that there was light beyond them, weak and faint but definitely there, shining softly through his shut lids. The blankets and covers were warm around him, cocooning him in safety and comfort, and against his back he could feel Caduceus, curled around him like a closing parenthesis with one arm draped loosely over his waist. His hand rested above Caleb’s stomach, spreading heat through Caleb’s thin pyjama top and into his skin, and as Caleb stirred, blinking sleep from his eyes, he felt Caduceus’ hand twitch slightly. He rolled over without thinking, raising an arm to drop it over Caduceus’ shoulder, and pressed in closer, nuzzling absently at Caduceus’ shoulder. He didn’t need to wake up. He didn’t need to move. Not quite yet.

Caleb may have dozed for a while; he wasn’t sure. It was warm beneath the covers with Caduceus, the whole world turned soft and gentle by the faint winter sunlight filtering through the curtains and the gentle sound of Caduceus’ breathing, and it was easy to relax into the mattress and lose himself to half-slumber, surrounded entirely by Caduceus. Caleb was still tired from yesterday, his mind worn-out and his body exhausted in the aftermath of the adrenaline that had flooded him during his panic attack, but he didn’t feel on-edge anymore. He didn’t feel nervous, didn’t feel shaky and anxious in the way that he so often did in the day immediately after such an event. He just felt comfortable.

He just felt safe.

That, more than anything else, was what lulled him back to half-slumber. He felt safe here, felt safe in a way that he very rarely did these days. Here, in his house, with Caduceus beside him and Frumpkin resting comfortably at the foot of the bed, there was nothing to disturb him. He knew this house was safe. He knew that Caduceus was safe. He knew that Frumpkin would alert him to the presence of any gas, and he knew that Caduceus would get him to safety if he were to panic his way into immobility, and he knew that Caduceus would not judge him for anything that he did. Here, he could relax. Here, he was safe.

Caleb snuggled in closer still. He was aware of time passing but it was a distant awareness, unimportant and unnecessary. It was the weekend. They had deliberately chosen to have their dinner date on Friday exactly so that they would have no rush the following morning should they stay up late talking. They had allowed for, if not this exact situation, then at least a similar one. There was no rush here. There was no urgency. There was just Caleb, and Caduceus, and Frumpkin, and a softness and comfort that warmed Caleb down to his bones.

Caleb didn’t know for how long he dozed for. With his eyes shut he couldn’t watch the fall of sunlight to track the passage of time, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to move, or to speak, or to think about anything more than the safety that he felt in Caduceus’ arms. He knew, faintly, that he would have to explain what happened yesterday, and that he would have to tell Caduceus exactly what triggered him in order to make sure that it didn’t happen again, but that could wait. All of that could wait.

Slowly, gradually, Caleb felt consciousness stealing away the mantle of sleep. He stirred gently, nuzzling absently at Caduceus’ neck, and, by seconds and minutes, slowly woke up, blinking open his eyes and rubbing at them when the sunlight got caught in his lashes. He dropped his hand as he shuffled up the bed to better rest his head on the pillow, and then he opened his eyes fully, and the first thing that he saw was Caduceus.

For just a moment, Caleb felt his heart stop.

The sun slipping through the poorly-drawn curtains painted silver and dawn-gold over Caduceus’ face, turning the pink of his eyes a soft blush-red and threading rose and amber through his hair. He looked almost fey in the winter sunlight, like some strange, uncommon, wonderful thing that Caleb had had the luck to encounter, but at the same time he looked completely, entirely normal. There was nothing surprising about him. There was nothing unusual. He was just Caduceus. He was the same Caduceus that had spoken with Caleb during his first evening in Zadash, when he joined the rest of the Asshole Squad for drinks. He was the same Caduceus that Caleb had listened to the shipping forecast with a short while later, having never heard about such a thing before. He was the same Caduceus who had hugged Caleb when he’d left for Felderwin, and he was the same Caduceus who had texted Caleb pictures of things he thought Caleb would like, and he was the same Caduceus that Caleb had, eventually, realised his feelings for. He wasn’t strange. He wasn’t uncommon.

But he was, undeniably, entirely wonderful.

Caleb leaned in, unthinking, and pressed a sleep-laden kiss to Caduceus’ lips before leaning back again, observing him from across the cool expanse of the pillow.

“Hey,” Caduceus murmured gently, his ears swish-swishing through the cool morning air. He smiled down at Caleb, lazy and relaxed, and Caleb didn’t think twice before smiling back at him, the reaction as instinctive and as natural as breathing.

“Mm, _hallo_ ,” he mumbled back, and Caduceus smiled wider.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mhmm…” Very well. Better than he had in a long time, in fact. Caleb yawned, turning his head to hide it against the pillow, and then, without so much as thinking, shifted forwards across the bed to press himself more closely to Caduceus’ front, tangling their legs together closer still and winding his arms around Caduceus’ body, holding him close as he breathed in the familiar peat-petrichor-tea scent of him, but it was nice. It was a little faded now, made softer by slumber, and it was blended with the even more familiar smells of Caleb’s home and sheets. It didn’t feel out of place, though. It just felt natural. _This_ felt natural. It felt natural to have Caduceus in his bed, felt natural to see his hair falling across the pillow in a cascade of pink, felt natural to hear his breathing and feel his hands pressing warm to his back and it felt natural to shift a little, and stretch up, and press his lips to Caduceus’ jaw in a sleepy, lazy kiss.

It felt natural to hear Caduceus laugh, and to feel the echo of it in his bones. Caleb smiled to himself, ducking his head a little to tuck it beneath Caduceus’ chin. That felt natural, too, and there was no surprise when, a moment later, he felt Caduceus press a kiss of his own to the top of his head. That was right. That was normal. That was comfortable.

That was something that Caleb could get used to very, very easily.

He could get used to all of this, if he were entirely honest with himself. He knew that he already saw Caduceus a lot more than most people saw someone that they were dating, seeing how they worked together, and had lunch and listened to the shipping forecast every day save for those where one or the other of them was busy with some work task, and Caduceus spent evenings at Caleb’s house several times a week, but even with that in mind, he liked this. He wanted this. He wanted to wake up with Caduceus by his side, and he wanted to go to sleep with Caduceus’ arms around him, and he wanted to watch Caduceus playing with Frumpkin and wanted to eat lunch and breakfast and dinner with him and he wanted to spend evenings with him, not speaking or talking but just existing in each other’s presence.

He wanted Caduceus to be in his life.

And, now, he was.

Entirely unthinking, Caleb kissed Caduceus again. He wasn’t sure exactly what part of him he was kissing, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t important. He just wanted to kiss Caduceus, and so he did, because he could. He stayed like that for a moment, his lips pressed to Caduceus’ skin, and then, slowly and gradually, he lifted his head, moving away from Caduceus just a little so that he could look over at him across the pillow. He didn’t disentangle their legs, didn’t stop touching Caduceus, but he put just enough space between them that he could see the individual he was utterly, absolutely smitten with. 

Caduceus smiled at him, and all the world was warmth.

“You awake now?” Caduceus asked softly, his voice deep and wonderful.

Caleb nodded. “Mm, _ja_ , I think so,” he replied. His words were half-mumbled, and he knew it, but he could also feel himself growing more awake with every passing second. With every passing moment, more and more of the previous day filtered back to him, but he felt insulated from the memories and the panic and the fear in a way that he rarely had before, kept safe and secure by Caduceus’ presence and Caduceus’ warmth.

“Oh, that’s good! And are you alright?” Caduceus asked, his ears tilting down for a moment. “You were- well, yesterday was a bit of an event. Are you feeling alright?”

Caleb nodded, stretching a little beneath the blankets. His upper arms, now that he was more conscious, felt a little rough, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d clawed at them unconsciously at some point while standing, when Frumpkin was unable to get to his hands to stop him, but overall he felt no worse than he usually did after an instance like this. If anything, he felt better. “I’m alright,” he replied quietly. “I am- _ja_ , I’m alright. Just a bit tired.”

Caduceus’ ears swished, just a tiny bit. “Yeah,” Caduceus replied, “yeah, I could tell. You slept for quite a while, you know.”

“I know.”

“That’s good, though. Sleep is important. It’s good for healing.”

Caleb smiled up at him. “Is it?” he asked, more to hear the delight that he knew would be in Caduceus voice as he started to explain than to really question the statement.

“Oh, yeah!” Caduceus replied, and Caleb felt his smile widen further. Gods, but he adored this. He adored Caduceus. “Yeah, it’s really good. It’s sort of like dusting for your brain, you know? Cleans it all up, puts things in order. It makes your bones heal if they’re cracked – not entirely, of course, but some – and it can heal up your muscles, and your body can make more white blood cells, which is really good. Sleep is really good for us.”

“It sounds it,” Caleb said. “Did you know that cats purr at a frequency that encourages bone and muscle healing, too?”

“I didn’t know that. That sounds really fascinating, though.”

“Mm, it is. Cats can purr within a few days of being born, you know, though we don’t actually know why they do it. They don’t just purr when they’re happy, though a lot of people seem to think they do.”

“When else do they purr?”

“A lot of the time, actually,” Caleb continued, feeling himself growing more enthused the longer he continued. “When they are in pain, when they are afraid, when they are offering comfort. I am not up to date on all the studies, but I believe there was some university or another that was thinking about comparing tiefling purring to cat purring to see if there are any similarities.”

“I know that Jester purrs sometimes when I braid her hair,” Caduceus remarked thoughtfully. “So does Molly, actually.”

“ _Ja_ , well, you have very lovely hands and are very gentle and wonderful. I think anyone would purr if you were to play with their hair, Caduceus.”

“Mm, you were nearly purring last night,” Caduceus added, and Caleb felt himself flush red. “It was very sweet, though. Well, it was as sweet as it could be, given the whole, ah…”

“…panic attack?” Caleb provided, and Caduceus hummed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That.”

Caleb sighed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That you- that you had to see that.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I mean, it’s not great that it happened, but you don’t have to apologise for it. It wasn’t something that you could control.”

“…I know,” Caleb said after a short pause. It had taken him a long time and a lot of therapy for him to get accustomed to accepting that, and even if the words felt awkward and clunky on his tongue, he knew them to be true. He couldn’t know when he might encounter a trigger, couldn’t control it any more than he could control the weather or the passage of seasons. He could predict it in part, could guess what the weather ahead would be like based on his understanding of the environment, but without explicitly asking Caduceus if he had a gas stove, he would have had no way of knowing. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t something that he could control. “I- I know,” Caleb repeated. “It wasn’t- _ja_. But I am sorry all the same. I feel that I ruined our date somewhat.”

Caduceus’ lips twitched in a smile. “Well, maybe,” he admitted, and something about his tone made Caleb smile back at him, weak and faint but there all the same. “But I still think that it ended kinda nicely. This is pretty nice, after all. I like this a lot.”

Caleb felt his smile widen. “I like this too,” he said softly. He leaned forwards, barely having to cross any distance at all, but Caduceus still met him halfway for the kiss. His lips were warm and soft and familiar against Caleb’s own, and after kissing him again Caleb moved back. He felt calmer now than he had yesterday, felt settled in a way that he rarely did the way after being triggered, but he could still feel uncertainty twisting in his gut. Despite how the morning was going, despite how soft and gentle and calm everything was, Caleb couldn’t shake the knowledge that he would, at some point, have to tell Caduceus about his past. It could happen now, or it could happen at some distant, far off point in the future, but it had to happen all the same. He couldn’t keep this from him.

He couldn’t keep the memory of his parents all to himself.

He swallowed, and felt the words lining up on the back of his throat. “…Caduceus?”

Caduceus hummed. “Mm, yeah?”

“You know how I- a while ago, when we first- when you came back from Felderwin, I said that… I mentioned how, at some point, I would have to tell you about everything in my past.”

“Oh, yeah, you did say that!”

“I did. And I… I think that time is now. For me to tell you everything.”

For a brief, horrible moment, Caduceus didn’t reply. Caleb didn’t know what he feared, didn’t know what, in that moment, he thought Caduceus would say or do, but he didn’t have to wait long for his fears to be calmed. Caduceus nodded slowly, his hair brushing against the pillow, and then he hummed again, soft and quiet and entirely calm. “Alright.”

And that was it. There was no expectation in his voice, no questioning Caleb if he was actually ready to say everything. There was no impatience, and no blame, and no judgement. There was just understanding and patience.

There was just Caduceus.

“Thank you,” Caleb murmured quietly, and he knew, from the soft swishing of Caduceus’ ears, that Caduceus understood what he was thanking him for. Caduceus didn’t reply, letting silence fill the space between them, but Caleb liked that. It made things feel softer, somehow. Easier. There was no rush, no hurry. He could take as much time as he needed to figure out the words to describe what had happened all those years ago. He had as much time as he needed to figure out the words to describe what he had done.

“A while ago,” Caleb said slowly, “I- I was responsible for my parents’ death.”

Against his front, he felt Caduceus grow still.

“Oh,” Caduceus said, and Caleb forced himself not to shut his eyes, forced himself to stay where he was and not immediately duck his head and hide against Caduceus’ front. He couldn’t hide away from this. Not any more. “I- oh. Huh. Alright.” Caduceus’ ears twitched. “Did you… I mean, I’m going to assume there’s more to this story.”

“There is,” Caleb replied. He flexed his fingers, fidgeting anxiously with the hem of Caduceus’ shirt. It was soft beneath his skin, made warm by Caduceus’ body heat. It didn’t hold any of the cold bite of winter air. It didn’t hold any of the crackle and roar of fire. It was just Caduceus. It was safe. “I was- I was eighteen. I was just about to go to university, you know. I wanted to study history, or ancient languages, or something of the like. I have always liked looking into the past, you know. I have always liked seeing how people lived before us.”

“Is that why you work in a museum?”

“Something like that,” Caleb admitted. “I like natural history museums too, though my primary interested did lie in human history. I like seeing how people interacted with creatures and nature, how they recorded them and maintained their knowledge about them. It is fascinating to me. But, either way, at the time I knew that I wanted to study history or something similar. I was not going to be going to university until the next year – I had taken a year out to work and save up money to pay for my studies – and during that time I was living at home.”

“With your parents,” Caduceus supplied, and Caleb nodded, feeling his eyes starting to prickle.

“ _Ja_ ,” he said. “With my- with my parents. They were very, um, they were very supportive of me. We were a close family and they- they liked that I was staying for a while longer. They liked that I was working, and saving, and that I had plans for my future.”

“It sounds like it was a pretty nice time.”

“It was. It really was. Things were… nice.” Caleb swallowed. “But, one day,” he continued, feeling the words starting to line up on his tongue, “we got a gas leak. We had a gas stove, you know, a proper, big, black metal one, and I loved it. I thought it was wonderful. When I was little I loved to watch the flames when my parents cooked. Sometimes they would lift me up and let me press the button to ignite it. I loved the colours of the flames, and I loved how you could _see_ what was cooking your food. It made it feel more real, somehow. Our oven was a beautiful old thing, but one day in winter it started to leak gas. Or, well, the gas system in our house that also managed our heating started to leak, but in my mind it was always the oven. Mutti and Vati were worried, of course, and let me know about it, and it meant that we couldn’t light our normal winter candles or- well, or do a fair few of our normal things. We managed, though. We always managed as a family, no matter what…”

There was a long quiet pause. Across the pillow from him Caleb could practically see Caduceus thinking, his ears twitching and flickering as he mulled over Caleb’s words. A small part of Caleb was afraid, concerned of what exactly Caduceus was going to say, but much more of him just felt calm. He trusted Caduceus. He trusted Caduceus to understand.

Eventually, Caduceus spoke.

“That’s what Frumpkin’s doing, isn’t it? He’s checking for gas leaks.”

“ _J-ja_ ,” Caleb said, caught off-guard by Caduceus’ words. “That is exactly what he is doing. He is- Frumpkin has a number of jobs, but that was the primary reason why my therapist helped me get him. I worry- I worry, sometimes, that there is gas that I cannot smell, or that I cannot trust my own senses.”

“But you can trust Frumpkin’s?”

“ _Ja_.”

“That makes sense. I sort of figured it out yesterday, I think, when he meowed at you. I’d never heard him do that before.”

“It’s how he signals to me that there is gas,” Caleb muttered. “He is a very quiet cat, normally.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. I’d never actually heard him make any sort of sound before. It sort of, ah, gave me an indication that something was amiss. That’s kind of why I came through. That, and because you suddenly stopped responding. That didn’t seem normal. You can be quiet, but you seem to like talking to me.”

Almost despite himself, Caleb huffed out a short breath of laughter. “ _Ja_ , well, you are not wrong there. I was, um… _ja_. I was not with it. That- that sound, the one that gas stoves make…”

“The clicking?” Caduceus asked, and Caleb nodded. He could already hear the sound at the back of his skull, ticking away like a metronome on fast-forward, and it made him feel shivery and prickly down to his bones, as though iron filings had been laid alongside his marrow and a magnet had been run over his skin.

“ _Ja_ ,” he mumbled. “That sound. It is- well, I suppose this is obvious to you now, but it is a trigger for me. A strong one. Similar sounds can set me off, and so can fire, especially if it is close to me, but I can- I can avoid those ones a bit better. I can, um… I have coping mechanisms. Grounding mechanisms. They help a lot, and normally I can ground myself enough to get myself away from whatever it was that triggered me so that Frumpkin can do his job, or so that I can decompress and calm down, but that- that sound, the clicking… I _can’t_. I can try, and it can help, but it’s- it’s never enough. It is _never_ enough.”

Caduceus nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I understand that. It’s- well, I don’t have any experience with this myself, so apologies if I misspeak, but I’d imagine it’s a more direct trigger.”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb murmured. “ _Ja_ , that is exactly it. Fire is- it is extremely unpleasant for me, as you know, but it is- that, I can almost handle. I can calm myself. This sound, though… it is stupid. It is- I didn’t even hear it when it- when they- when it happened, you know? I hadn’t heard it for _weeks_. We’d been so careful.”

“It’s not stupid,” Caduceus said. “None of this is stupid, Caleb. Grief and trauma rarely make perfect sense.”

“But it was a _good sound_ before!” Caleb insisted. “I liked that sound! I liked lighting the stove, and I liked cooking with it, and I liked watching the cat sitting before it to warm himself. It was a good sound. I didn’t hear it at all when I left, but now I- now I can’t-” He cut himself off, biting the words back behind his teeth. “Now,” he said, forcing himself to breathe calmly and evenly, “now, when I hear it, or even something similar to it, I- I panic. That’s it. I can’t stop it.”

“…Caleb?”

“Mm?”

“If I can- if it’s alright for me to ask, what happened to your stove?” Caduceus asked quietly. “You don’t have to answer, but I’m… well, to put it frankly, I’m getting the sense that this story isn’t finished.”

Caleb shook his head, hearing his hair brush against the pillow. “It isn’t,” he replied. “But it- there isn’t much to tell.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Caleb interrupted, catching even himself off guard. “I- I want to tell you this, Caduceus. I want you to know.”

And, somehow, that was the truth. It arrived in Caleb’s mind quietly, settling into place like falling snow; he wanted to tell Caduceus about his past. He wanted to tell Caduceus about his parents. He wanted to tell Caduceus about what had happened, and what he had done, and why he was the way he was, and it was terrifying and heart-stopping and anxiety-inducing, and he wanted to do it. He trusted Caduceus with this. He trusted that this would be alright. He trusted that Caduceus would, in his slow, calm, patient way, listen to the story all the way through to the end, and not immediately rush to make assumptions. He trusted Caduceus.

He trusted Caduceus with everything.

“I thought that the stove was fixed,” Caleb said quietly. At the back of his mind, in the shadow of his thoughts, he remembered sitting at the top of the staircase in his family home, petting the then-ancient original Frumpkin and listening to his parents speak in the kitchen the floor below as snow fell past the windows. “I thought that- I overheard them one evening, talking in the kitchen, and I thought that it was fixed. I had bought some lovely candles for Mutti before we got the leak and had been waiting until I could light them for her. I wanted to surprise her with them. She had always liked nice, pleasant-smelling candles, especially around winter and autumn. And I overheard them speaking, and I was so, so certain that it was fixed. I was so certain that everything was okay. And so I lit the candles on the table, and then I got my coat, and my scarf, and I left to go to the shops. I left my parents alone in a house with a gas leak, with three lit candles sitting on the table by the kitchen.” Caleb swallowed, blinking away the tears that clung to his lashes. He couldn’t hear Caduceus breathing anymore. He could barely hear his own words. And yet, despite all that, he still heard what Caduceus said next.

“Caleb,” Caduceus said softly. “You don’t- you know that you don’t have to tell me everything. I know I’m not the cleverest individual, but I can- I think can infer what it is that you’re leaving out. You don’t have to say it.”

Caleb blinked, and watched as his tears smeared sunlight across his eyes. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and a moment later Caduceus leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Unthinkingly he turned his head, capturing Caduceus’ lips with his own. Caduceus made a small, surprised sound, but he melted into the kiss just as easy as Caleb did, one hand shifting beneath the covers to settle on Caleb’s hip, spreading warmth through his body. The kiss was a short one, sweet and brief, and when it ended Caleb gave a small, quiet sigh, feeling what little tension had been in his body during the conversation ebb and fade away. He was alright. Caduceus was alright. Yesterday had been awful, and triggering, and he’d ruined their date whether Caduceus admitted it or not, but it was alright. He’d shared his past with Caduceus, and it was alright. He’d told Caduceus why he needed a service cat, and what things triggered him, and Caduceus had listened, and heard, and accepted, and everything was alright.

_They_ were alright.

They were alright, and in the soft, comfortable silence that now enveloped them, Caleb found himself wanting to speak again, and what he wanted to speak about was something that he had never mentioned to anyone at all. He was going to say it to Caduceus, though.

He wanted to.

“It is, um… it is the anniversary soon,” Caleb said quietly, looking down.

“Oh?” he heard Caduceus say. “Of what?”

“Of their- of the- of their… of when they died.”

Caduceus fell silent for a moment, and when he replied, it wasn’t with anything that Caleb had expected.

“Oh,” Caduceus replied, his voice soft. “That’s nice. I mean, it’s not nice that they died, I know that, but it’s nice that you know when it happened. We still don’t know when Clarabelle died. Not exactly. I’m glad you have a date you can grieve for.”

Caleb blinked. He had never even considered that Caduceus may not have an exact date for when his sister died, but now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. He was vaguely aware that ships had radios, and were capable of sending may-day signals and requests for help, but even with those marking the rough time when the ship sank, there was no guarantee that Clarabelle had died exactly then.

How long, Caleb wondered, had she drifted in the water? She must have been a strong swimmer, based on what Caduceus had told him, but how long had that lasted for? How long had she lived in an ocean tossed asunder by a storm?

It was a good thing, Caleb supposed, that Clarabelle didn’t have a traditional grave. It would have been impossible to know what date to put on it.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb murmured. He could feel his throat choking up, and knew that it was more than just tears for his own family. “I am- I am sorry to hear that, Caduceus.”

Caduceus shrugged, the motion of it tugging on the covers and making them slide over Caleb’s skin. “Well, I mean, it’s not too much of an issue for us,” he said, just as calm as ever. “Everyone dies eventually. That’s just a fact of life, especially in my family’s line of business. I mean, sure, we weren’t expecting Clarabelle to go so soon, and it wasn’t pleasant when it did happen, but it…” He sighed. “People die,” he continued, his voice quieter. “All the time, for all manner of reasons. There’s plenty of people out there who die and have no one to grieve them, or have no one to remember them, or go unfound or undiscovered just like Clarabelle did. Eventually, though, you have to move on. We didn’t assign a date to her death, because there wasn’t one, but to us, that didn’t matter. Dates matter to some people, but they didn’t matter for us. Knowing when she died wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to help us grieve. We’d already found our own ways to do that.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I… I am glad. That you, um, that you have that. That you have your own ways to grieve her.”

Caduceus hummed, the sound of it echoing through Caleb’s bones like an afterthought. “Mm, yeah, I’m glad too. I liked Clarabelle. It wouldn’t have been right not to grieve her somehow. And I’m really glad that you have somewhere to go to grieve your parents, too, you know. That’s nice.”

“…I like to visit them if I can,” Caleb said, feeling as though he had to explain. “I go to Blumenthal when I am able to, on the anniversary. I cannot always go, but when I- if I am able to, I like to go back to where they were buried. I like to-” _Apologise. Wish that it had never happened. Wish that I could undo it_. “-remember them. Um. Remember their memory.”

“That’s really nice,” Caduceus said quietly. “Too many graves go forgotten. I’m glad that your parents aren’t amongst those.”

“Mm.” Caduceus was right, and Caleb knew it, but all the same he felt his heart twist a little. His parents were not forgotten, and would not be for a long time yet, but they were not remembered how Clarabelle was. Caleb was sure that there were other people who stopped by his parents grave – they had both been well-liked by the town, and a fair number of people had shown up at their funeral – but he had never seen any during his visits. He had never sought them out, had never interacted with them after he changed his name and moved away. He hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t wanted to know them. He hadn’t wanted to share his parent’s memory with them, and in doing so he had stifled it, cutting it short at the root and stopping it from growing further.

He couldn’t stifle it anymore. He couldn’t keep it just as his own. Without others, without space to grow and stretch and be seen, his parents memory would fade and die with him.

Caleb swallowed. “Would you come with me?” he heard himself say. “To Blumenthal?”

Caduceus paused, and Caleb felt his heart twist.

“You’re very important to me, Caduceus,” Caleb continued, hating even this brief moment of silence. He flexed one hand nervously, curling it into a ball, and was about to start pressing his nails into his palm when, beneath the covers, Caduceus reached out, and took his hand gently. His touch was warm, soft and careful, and Caleb knew that if he were to pull his hand away that Caduceus would not complain, or judge, or move to take his hand back, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to. He turned his hand, opening it, and let Caduceus thread his fingers between his own, feeling them slot together as perfectly as the bones of his spine. He swallowed. “You are, um… I care about you. A lot. And you are important to me, and my family is important to me, and I would… if you would like to, I think I would… I would like you to meet them.”

Beneath the covers, Caduceus’ fingers squeezed around his own.

“I’d like that,” Caduceus replied, his voice soft. “I’d like that a lot, Caleb. I’d- yeah. When did you say it would be?”

“Next weekend,” Caleb said. “It will only be a short visit. It is a long drive – I planned it when I realised that I would be moving to Zadash, and I will need to leave on Friday night. I will- _we_ will need to stay overnight in Blumenthal. Um. If that is alright…”

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. I’d like to go with you. I’d like to meet your parents, however I can,” Caduceus continued. “They sound like really good people. I’m glad that you had them. I’m sorry that they couldn’t see how great you’ve become.”

Caleb shut his eyes, pressing his face to Caduceus’ shoulder. “ _Caduceus_ ,” he mumbled, but the word was quiet, muffled by Caduceus’ soft, fine fur, and Caleb couldn’t tell if Caduceus heard it or not. He didn’t know if he wanted him to. He didn’t even know what else he wanted to say. He just knew that to hear that, to hear Caduceus be respectful of his parents death, and appreciative of their lives, and complimentary of his own achievements, whatever those may be… it made something in him feel warm and unsteady and sad all at once, a complicated little knot of emotions lodged right behind his ribs. He shifted against the mattress, holding Caduceus a bit closer, and felt Caduceus’ hand run down his spine, stroking over the ridges of his vertebrae before sweeping back up to tangle long, delicate fingers in the loose strands of his hair.

“Death is always tricky,” Caduceus continued, and his words were softer now, quieter and more intimate and yet more sombre too. “It’s not pleasant. We can’t make it pleasant. I can’t make this better for you, and even if I could I don’t know if it’s something that I should do. You need to let grief run its course and wear itself thin. It needs to be felt and acknowledged, but you also can’t let it consume you. I’ve never met your parents, and I probably never will, but I’ve heard you speak about them. From you, I can see what sort of people they were. I can’t know for certain, because you can never know what someone else thinks for absolute certain, but I think that they would be proud of you.”

“Caduceus,” Caleb murmured again. He could feel tears prickling at his eyes, could feel the salt gathering along his lashes like ocean spray, and he knew that it was getting caught in Caduceus’ fur and shirt. He knew that Caduceus wouldn’t care. He knew that Caduceus understood. He knew that, at times, Caduceus seemed to understand him better than he understood himself, and he knew that he adored him for it.

When Caduceus spoke again, Caleb felt his words all the way down to his marrow.

“Grief doesn’t make you weak,” Caduceus said, his voice calm and warm and wrapping around Caleb like a physical embrace. “Trauma doesn’t make you weak, either. It changes you, sure, but change is as natural as anything. The seasons change, and people might complain about it but no one tries to stop them, and even if they did they wouldn’t be able to. Sometimes things have to change. And I’m not saying that it’s right to go through trauma, or that it should happen, but when it has happened, or when someone that you love has died… you can’t change that. That’s not something that you can do. Death is natural. It hurts, and it’s unpleasant, but it’s natural, and it’s happened. You can’t change that. You just have to adapt to it, and get the help you need if you find that you need it. There’s no shame in that. And it’s alright to want to hold onto the memory of lost loved ones, too, but it’s also alright to let it go, too. It’s natural to feel possessive, especially when you were close to them. And that can be a good thing, at least for a while. It can make you remember them better if you hold those memories close, but if you hold onto them for too long then your hands can start to hurt. Weight doesn’t always have to be carried alone, Caleb. Sometimes, it can be better to share it.”

“I know,” Caleb said, and for the first time since meeting his therapist, he felt as though he had actually found someone else to share the weight with. “I- I know.” He’d known before, of course, but, somehow, in the wake of Rexxentrum and Astrid, his mental field of possible people to share the grief with had narrowed down to just himself and his therapist. He hadn’t considered telling anyone at the Zadash museum. He hadn’t even considered letting them get close enough to know. He’d moved to Zadash to work, to start over afresh, to leave the past behind him as best he could and settle in while simultaneously keeping every memory of his parents, and of what had happened in Blumental, as far away from anyone else as possible. He hadn’t wanted them to know. He hadn’t wanted them to see, and it had hurt.

And, now, it hurt less. It less because Caduceus now knew about his parents, too.

Caleb hadn’t told him much, but it was still a start. He hadn’t told Caduceus about his father’s cooking, or the blanket that his mother had crocheted for him, and he hadn’t told Caduceus about celebrations shared at home, or about the stray that his family had taken in when Caleb had been young, originally calling it Pumpkin after its orange fur but changing its name to Frumpkin after Caleb’s continued mispronunciation of it. He hadn’t told Caduceus any of that. But he’d told him enough. He’d told Caduceus enough that, in his absence, someone else would carry the threads of his parent’s memory with them, keeping them alive in thought and in words and passing their story on to others until they were remembered in a hundred different places by a hundred different people. With time, the story that Caleb had told Caduceus would grow as more stories were told and more memories were shared, and the connections and knowledge would become thicker and more certain, keeping his parents close even as he shared their memory with others.

Beneath the covers, Caleb squeezed Caduceus’ hand again. He felt like he should be doing more, felt like he should be kissing Caduceus, or cuddling him, or professing his love or saying something equally dramatic, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to. He liked Caduceus, adored Caduceus, and he didn’t have to show Caduceus that because Caduceus already knew. Caduceus would understand what Caleb meant by this small touch.

Caduceus smiled at him, slow and soft like spreading sunlight, and squeezed Caleb’s hand back.

“It’s good to share stories of people we love and let them grow,” Caduceus said quietly. “It’s good to let them continue to exist outside of just ourselves and what we can see. It’s good to let people’s memories go and connect to other people that we may never have met before. There’s nothing bad in wanting to keep the memory of loved ones close, but growing them, letting them exist beyond you, becoming part of some unseen web… that’s how people stay alive after they die.”

“Like mycelium,” Caleb said quietly, and Caduceus nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Like mycelium.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **October 21st!**


	18. Chapter 18

On Friday, Caleb drove to work. He rose and got dressed as he usually did, getting Frumpkin into his harness and helping him up onto his shoulder, but instead of simply taking his regular work bag and leaving to catch the bus, he instead took the bag he’d packed on Wednesday out to his car, loading it up alongside Frumpkin’s carry case and travel bag. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to him, not after all these years, but it still felt odd. He liked taking the bus to work. It wasn’t a far enough journey for him to justify driving it, and he liked helping the environment, even in small ways. But he couldn’t get the bus to Blumental, and even if he could, he wasn’t sure if he would want to. He needed the quiet of the drive to settle his mind, to help prepare himself.

He wondered if Caduceus would understand the silence. He wondered if Caduceus would recognise it.

Caleb shut the trunk of his car with that thought still in mind and, far earlier than he really needed to, drove to work. It was a small thing, the slightest change from his usual routine, but it felt significant all the same. He parked alongside Beau’s truck in the parking space at the back of the museum, entering the building through the fire doors and stepping into the silent corridor. He wasn’t expecting to feel so off-balance, not having Calianna to greet him as he stepped foot in the building. He wasn’t expecting to feel so out of place, entering the museum through these doors and not having to punch his access code into one of the many tucked-away doors that dotted the building. He walked along the corridor, feeling the familiar silence settling into place along his bones, but it didn’t feel entirely right. It didn’t feel entirely normal.

But it was. Everything was normal. Nothing had changed in his life, not really. He was just going to visit his parents’ grave, the same way he had for a number of years now. This was a perfectly normal part of his life, one that he marked into his calendar at the start of each year. He knew to expect this. He knew what it was like. This was normal. This was ordinary.

Bringing someone else with him, though… that wasn’t.

Caleb saw Caduceus just before lunch, joining him for their normal shipping forecast meeting, and he didn’t mention their upcoming journey at all. He didn’t feel like he had to. Caduceus, he knew, could be forgetful, but he wasn’t when it came to things that mattered. He remembered which toys Frumpkin preferred, and which teas Caleb liked, and he remembered to return books without Caleb having to prompt him at all. He remembered what Caleb had told him about his past. He would remember this.

Caduceus, much to Caleb’s relief, didn’t mention it either. He just greeted Caleb with a kiss and a cup of rooibos and vanilla tea, pressed into Caleb’s hands as they sat side by side on top of the desk. The tea was fragrant, hot and faintly sweet, and the steam it sent up curled in the air above them, glinting gold in the weak winter sunlight that shone through the window. Caleb hadn’t had much cause to drink this particular tea, not for a while, but he still remembered it. He still remembered what Caduceus had written about it.

_Rooibos and vanilla. For when you need to mourn._

After their tea, and after the shipping forecast, and after lunch with everyone else, they went back to work, the upcoming drive still unspoken between them. Caleb worked and read his emails, just as he always did. When the end of the day came he said his goodbyes to Nott and then he took his bag and took Frumpkin and met Caduceus outside the mycology department. Together, they walked to Caleb’s car, both of them silent as they crossed the parking lot.

It was only then that Caleb openly acknowledged what they were doing.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly once the door of the car clicked shut behind him, sealing him and Caduceus inside the slowly-warming space. “You can- if you are not sure, you do not have to come with me. I know that this can be, ah… odd.”

Caduceus smiled and reached out across the space between them until his hand came to rest over Caleb’s, pressing warmth into his skin. “I’m sure,” he replied, and Caleb heard nothing in his words but absolute certainty. “I’d really like to meet your family, Caleb. It means a lot to me that you asked me to go with you.”

“Oh,” Caleb said. His throat felt tight, choked up by something indescribable. It wasn’t pain or grief or loss, not quite, but it was similar. It was familiar to him. “I- okay.”

Caduceus smiled a little wider, and squeezed Caleb’s hand again.

The drive to Blumental was, as Caleb had expected, mostly done in silence. They spoke for a bit, discussing work, and what Molly had been up to since he got back, and what Nott had been keeping in the food-freezer, but Caleb’s heart wasn’t in it, and soon they lapsed into silence. Night gathered around them by increments, the sky shading through dusk and into darkness as, overhead, the stars appeared one by one. Caduceus spoke up then, but it was only to say one thing.

“That’s the north star,” he said unexpectedly, pointing out of the window. His voice was quiet, thoughtful and soft, but Caleb heard him all the same. “Sailors used to use it to navigate. Some still do, I think.”

“Did Clarabelle tell you that?” Caleb asked, and Caduceus hummed.

“Yeah,” he replied. He turned around in his seat, settling back down and leaning his head back against the head-rest. “Yeah, she did.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent.

They arrived in Blumental close to midnight, pulling up to park outside a small bed and breakfast. Caleb had deliberately chosen it for the fact that the owner wasn’t originally from Blumental; it was bad enough running into people in the streets who still recognised him, even all these years later. He didn’t need that when it was late and he was tired from a long drive. It helped, too, that this place let him bring Frumpkin into the room, provided that he tidied up after him. Frumpkin wasn’t quite accustomed to the place, seeing how he only saw it once a year, but he was well-trained and stayed calm and quiet as Caleb and Caduceus got ready for bed, enjoying the chance to stretch his legs before he made himself comfortable back inside his open carrier. Neither Caleb nor Caduceus spoke much, both of them tired from the drive and subdued by the knowledge of what would be happening tomorrow, but they still traded their now-normal goodnight kiss once they were both settled in bed.

“Goodnight, Caleb,” Caduceus murmured, his words soft against Caleb’s lips and his arm warm around Caleb’s body, and Caleb smiled, just a little.

“Goodnight,” he replied quietly.

“Sleep well.”

“Mm, I’ll try to.”

Caduceus didn’t comment on that, but Caleb felt his soft exhale of breath. He didn’t think he _could_ say any more than that. It wasn’t uncommon for him to dream of fire the evening before visiting his parents but, strangely, he didn’t feel like tonight was going to be one of those nights. He didn’t feel gas in his lungs, didn’t feel guilt choking his throat until he could barely breathe. He just felt tired and a little bit numb, like he wanted to bury himself into Caduceus’ body until there was no way for the world to reach him until he was ready for it.

But he couldn’t do that, and he knew it. He couldn’t put this off. He couldn’t ignore it.

In the morning, Caleb knew, they would be going to visit his parents.

\---

The graveyard was small, and secluded, and entirely deserted. Lone birds wheeled overhead, a few of them calling their mournful melodies from the yews that broke up the lines of graves or the hedgerows that grew throughout the iron bars of the fence, but save for Caleb and Caduceus, there were no other people to be seen. Caleb didn’t mind that, though. He liked the solitude. He liked the lack of other people to disturb him.

At his side, Caduceus shifted, his coat rustling softly. Caleb amended his last thought: he liked the lack of other people, save for Caduceus. He stood side by side with him before the gates, watching as their breath made clouds in the chilly air and listening to the wind whispering through the trees that dotted the graveyard. All was silent. All was still.

“Well,” Caleb said quietly, looking past the gate and into the graveyard beyond. “Here we are.”

Caduceus nodded, his ears swishing a little. “It looks nice,” he commented. “Very, ah, very tidy. I like the trees.”

“They’re yews.”

“Yeah, I thought they looked like yews. A lot of graveyards have yews. I think they were used to prevent grazing animals from wandering into the graveyard. Help to keep the place organised and all that.”

“…I didn’t know about that.”

Caduceus shrugged. “Well, it’s not known for sure if that’s the case,” he said. “But it might be. Either way, I like it. It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? Keeping the graves of people you care for protected by poisonous trees, using the poison for something good and protective. It’s kind of sweet.”

“Is it?”

“I think it is.”

Caleb nodded to himself slightly. He wasn’t sure if he understood all of Caduceus’ train of thought, but he thought he could see where he was coming from. It was nice to think of his parents’ grave as being protected, even if he himself was not there to watch over it and its sleepers. It was nice to think of old, ancient trees keeping guard, using the poison they had been granted to keep away those who were not there to mourn while simultaneously providing for the birds that called the graveyard home. It felt… cyclical, somehow, in a strange way that Caleb didn’t know how to describe. It felt balanced.

“Come on,” he murmured quietly, his head full of thoughts of trees and birds and poison, “let’s- let’s go.”

The graveyard gate opened with a soft, low creak, the hinges groaning just as they always had. Caleb entered first, the gravel of the path crunching beneath his feet, and a moment later Caduceus stepped through too, joining him just beyond the low wall. The air slipped beneath Caleb’s scarf, brushing cold around his neck and sighing against his skin, making him shiver beneath the weight of his coat. On his shoulder, Frumpkin shifted a little, his tail flicking against Caleb’s spine, but he stayed silent. Out there, amongst the frost and the cold and the graves, there was no fire to disturb them. There was no gas to alert Frumpkin.

Caleb swallowed. On his tongue, the air tasted like a warning of approaching snow.

“I-” he started to say, and then stopped himself. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He’d never had to do this before. He’d never had someone to talk to, had never had someone to stand by his side as he walked the graves, and welcome and wanted as Caduceus’ presence was, it was still odd. This place, this scene, the cool air pricking at his skin and memories of soot and smoke lingering at the back of his throat… it was all familiar to Caleb. It was all known, was all comfortable in the strange, hollow way that anything about this was comfortable. Caleb had walked this path many, many times in his life, had heard the gravel beneath his feet give way to grass, and even now it felt almost as if the graveyard were greeting him as an old friend, for all that he was not nearly as old as half the bodies buried deep beneath it. How many times had he been here, now? Countless, it felt like, and yet it could not have been that many. After his initial bouts of grief and depression, he’d steered clear of the graveyard, not wanting to spend time so close to his parents’ ghosts. Away from the graveyard, away from Blumental, he could at least pretend with marginally more success that-

That what?

That they hadn’t died? That he hadn’t killed them? That he wasn’t the reason that they were buried now in this freezing, frost-covered earth, one grave for two people because he had known that they wouldn’t have wanted to let go from each other even in death?

Hardly.

He’d never been able to forget. He’d never been able to pretend. But in Rexxentrum, in Zadash, in any place that wasn’t there, he didn’t have to deal with the horrible, pitying stares so much. Away from Blumental, he wasn’t Bren, survivor of the fire that had taken his family. Away from Blumental, he was just Caleb. 

He was just Caleb, and his hands shook occasionally, and he struggled to leave the house without his support animal on his shoulder, and the smell of certain candles was enough to send him into a panic attack, but he was not pitied. Not for what had happened to him. Not in the same way.

Away from Blumental, it was easier to visit, and so he did.

Caleb let his feet lead him to the grave he was looking for, walking between the jutting headstones as the yews spoke their whispers into the biting winter air. Caduceus was silent at his side, offering no words and making no sound aside from the soft crunching of frost-covered grass beneath his feet, but the silence was more companionable than expectant. Caleb knew how good Caduceus was with silence. He knew how Caduceus rarely felt the need to speak into it, to fill it with sound, to attempt to distract from the stillness. That, too, was familiar. In previous years, Caleb had only ever walked this path alone. To hear someone else speaking now would be more off-putting than comforting, he felt. It would remind him that someone else was close enough to him to know why he was here. And that was a good thing, he _knew_ that it was, but it wasn’t something that he could handle at the moment. He’d spent too long closed off, keeping his memories safe and sound inside his own head. Only Astrid and his therapist had known everything, before Caduceus had come along. Only Astrid and his therapist knew that Caleb made these visits.

But Caduceus was the first one who had understood.

At his side, Caduceus made a small, curious sound. Caleb looked up at him, blinking away memories, and Caduceus gave him a faint smile, squeezing his hand. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “You doing alright?”

Somehow, the sound of Caduceus’ voice in this empty, echoing graveyard managed to be the most familiar thing of all.

Caleb smiled back, feeling the expression tugging at the corners of his mouth, and squeezed Caduceus’ hand in return. “ _Ja_ ,” he said quietly. “I am- _ja_. I’m alright.”

“Good,” Caduceus said simply. He squeezed Caleb’s hand again, his thumb rubbing over the ridges of Caleb’s knuckles. There was nothing expectant in his voice, was no indication that he was impatient or bored or anything other than completely, entirely calm.

Distantly, Caleb wondered if Caduceus had ever done this. He helped with his family’s funeral home – he’d said as much himself – but Caleb wondered if it had extended to this. Had Caduceus walked the rows of graves with the mourners, neither family nor friend to the deceased but an important member in the aftermath of their death all the same? Had he offered quiet comfort to those who needed it, spoke of memories and mourning, listened to their tales and their stories and carried the lives of those who had passed on with him? Had all his family done that? How many people, Caleb wondered, could the Clays remember? How many memories did they hold?

If he himself were to die, who would remember him?

Caleb felt that thought lodge in his mind as he led Caduceus through the lines of the graves. He wouldn’t lie and say that he’d never contemplated his own death before, but he’d never truly thought of the aftermath of it. He hadn’t thought about everything that Caduceus told him that his family did. He hadn’t thought about the tidying up, or the burial, or the mourners or the memories or about any of that. He hadn’t thought about how, even after he died, he would still be remembered. People didn’t just vanish when they passed away. They didn’t stop _being_ , even if they no longer lived. They lived on in memories, in stories, in the minds and hearts of those who knew and loved them.

His parents lived on in his mind. They lived on here, too, in a strange, half-there sort of way. There were no memories tied to their gravestone, but anyone who walked past it, and read their names, and saw the dates, would, at least for a while, know of them. For the briefest, tiniest moment, they would be alive again.

Caleb’s feet slowed to a stop before the stone in question. It was a simple gravestone, in keeping with his parents’ comfortable style, cut of a dark grey granite and etched with their names. There was little excess text on it. Caleb hadn’t wanted there to be anything else on it. He hadn’t known what else to put. He hadn’t known what else to share.

“This is them,” he said quietly. It was a pointless announcement, unneeded and unnecessary - he knew that Caduceus could read the text carved into the headstone as easily as he could. Years had passed since the fire but stone did not bow easily to time and even now, with lichen starting to crawl across the smooth, dark granite, the words were still crisp and sharp, etched deep and painted with shadow from the overcast sun.

_In memory of Leofric and Una Ermendrud_

Caleb took a step forwards, letting Caduceus’ hand slip from his grasp, and walked up to the gravestone. The granite of it was cold beneath his touch, chill and icy as the approaching winter weather took it in its grasp, but Caleb didn’t flinch at it. He didn’t pull his hand away. This, this touch, was all he had.

“ _Hallo, Mutti_ ,” he murmured. “ _Hallo, Vati_.”

Somewhere below his feet, the bones of his parents slumbered on.

Caleb cleared his throat, gently, absently rubbing his thumb across the smooth stone. He’d never had much to say at these visits, preferring to keep his words inside the safety and solitude of his head, and even now, with only Caduceus there to see, he still didn’t feel like speaking. He’d only ever said one thing, really. It was a stupid thing to say, in his opinion, because it didn’t and _couldn’t_ change anything, but he said it all the same. It was important. It needed to be said.

“ _Es tut mir Leid_ ,” he said quietly. The wind sighed around him, stealing his words away. He didn’t know if Caduceus heard. He didn’t know if Caduceus understood. He didn’t particularly care. Caduceus already knew what he had done. If Caduceus understood what he was saying, he would understand why the words were necessary. Even if he didn’t understand, Caleb felt that he would be able to infer.

What he was saying, he felt, should be obvious to anyone who knew what he had done.

For a while Caleb simply stayed like that, feeling his fingers gradually growing numb as stone and wind leeched the warmth from his skin. He’d said everything that he needed to say. He’d said everything that he normally did. Now, he knew, he normally retreated inside himself, recalled memories of his parents that inevitably ended in fire, but, for some reason, he didn’t do that this time. He still thought of his parents, still remembered how they lived and the time they had had together, but, this time, none of the memories ended in smoke and sparks and the taste of gas on his tongue.

This time, they all ended with Caduceus, and with the image of Caduceus meeting his parents for the first time. It was so clear in Caleb’s mind – he knew exactly how his mother would smile at him, knew how she’d stretch up to hug him as best she could, and he knew how his father would greet Caduceus, and welcome him inside, and treat him as though he were as much a part of the family as Caleb was. He knew all of that. He knew exactly how the entire event would play out.

He knew that it could never, ever happen.

Caleb took a step back from the grave, hearing the frost crunch beneath his feet. He knew what he was walking above, knew what was buried beneath him, deep enough within the ground that the winter’s frosts barely touched it. He’d been there when the coffin had been lowered, holding what little of his parents had been found. He’d been one of the ones lowering it. He’d placed his parents beneath the earth, and he’d covered them with dirt, and then his mind had quietly left as the drifting, powdery snow had settled atop the fresh-turned earth of the grave, dusting it with white until it blended seamlessly into the expansive grounds of the graveyard. He’d been there, saying what words needed to be said to the neighbours and friends and relatives who attended the funeral, but he hadn’t been present. In his skull, gazing out at the world as though through clouded glass, Caleb had sat at the top of the stairs of his parent’s house, and had listened to them talk.

Silently, he drew to a stop by Caduceus’ side, turning to face the gravestone once again. It looked strangely lonely, even amongst the countless other markers of once-had lives; there were no flowers by its base, were no ribbons or candles or any indication that anyone had walked to it, and seen it, and remembered anything at all. It looked quiet.

It looked abandoned.

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not here, under the watch of the whispering yews, in a space that was home to so many small things. There was life here that Caleb couldn’t see, deep down in the soil and woven through the stones. There was lichen, and insects, and beetles that scurried through the grass that withered now beneath the winter frost. Caleb couldn’t hear anything beyond the soft singing of the birds, but he didn’t need to. He knew what beetles sounded like. He knew what they sounded like as they gently feasted on what the curators at the museum couldn’t clean away, crafting use out of death in their unconscious, unknowing way. There was always life in death, one way or another. Even in the smallest, tiniest, unnoticed ways, there was always life in death. And maybe it was only the life of beetles, searching for what food they needed and could find, but it was still life. It was still purpose.  

Caleb looked at the letters of his parent’s names, and thought of beetles.

“Ermendrud,” Caduceus murmured quietly, stirring Caleb from his thoughts. “Huh. That’s- well, I mean, it isn’t-”

“It’s not my surname,” Caleb said quietly. He hunched down a little, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s not- _ja_. I know. I didn’t- after everything that happened, I didn’t want anyone at university to recognise my name and tie it to what happened here. It was in the papers for a little while, you know. I didn’t know if anyone had seen it, but I- _ja_. I didn’t want their pity. I didn’t want their questions.”

“You still went to university?”

“Mm.” With a mind full of fire, and hands that shook, and watchful, wary eyes that unsettled the relatives that he stayed with in the months before leaving, but he still went. “I wanted to- I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t stay.”

Caduceus hummed again. “Did you study history?”

“I- _ja_. I did.”

“That’s nice. I hope you enjoyed it.”

Caleb smiled, just a little. “I did,” he confirmed. “It was- it was nice to be, um… to not be myself. Well, to not be the me that I was here. I didn’t- no one knew me at university. They didn’t know what had happened to- to my parents. It was… freeing.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus said. “Yeah, I can imagine. Sometimes it can be nice to get away from what people expect of you.”

“ _Ja_.”

“…Caleb?”

“Mm?”

“Would you mind if I spoke with them?” Caduceus asked, his voice cautious. “Not much, just… I would like to say hi, if you’d let me.”

Caleb shrugged. “Sure,” he mumbled. “You- _ja_. Go ahead.”

Caduceus squeezed his hand again, just for a moment. “Thank you,” he said, and then he stepped forwards, and approached the grave until he was standing just before it.

For a moment, the only sound was the wind in the branches of the yews.

“Hey,” Caduceus said, his quiet words carrying on the faint breeze that ghosted through the graves. “You don’t know me, but I’m starting to know you. I just wanted to say that you two did a really great job of raising Caleb. He’s a really good person, you know. Very smart, very kind. He’s very loved at our little museum, and he’s doing well for himself. I’m proud of him. I think he’s doing great. Thank you for your lives, and thank you for being here while you lived. I’m sure you two were just great, and I hope you know that you will be remembered. Caleb remembers you. One of the Clays will remember you. You’ll be around for a while yet.” Caduceus reached out, laying a hand on the gravestone for just a moment, and then he stepped back. For a few seconds he was silent, the wind playing gently with his hair, now nearly white with how close they were to winter, and then he exhaled in a low huff of air. “Caleb?” he called.

“ _Ja?”_ Caleb replied.

“Come here?” Caduceus asked quietly. He half turned, inclining his head towards the grave, and Caleb found his feet moving with hardly a thought, carrying him forward until he stood by Caduceus’ side, Caduceus’ hand now held in his own once again. Caduceus lifted his other hand, pointing towards the top corner of the gravestone where, like spreading frost, a small patch of lichen was growing. “You see that?”

Caleb nodded. “Mm.”

“Now, it’s not fire-resistant. Lichen isn’t, generally speaking. It likes to be damp, the same way mushrooms do. But its roots, the mycelium… people have been finding that if you dry them out, and build them into bricks, or something else for building, or construction, or something differently useful to the mushroom or lichen itself, well… then, it becomes fire-resistant.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know,” Caduceus replied calmly. “I just felt that I should say it.” He shrugged his shoulders, dropping his hand, but Caleb’s gaze remained fixed on the little patch of green all the same. How far into the granite, he wondered, did the lichen’s roots spread? How much of it couldn’t he see? And how far, too, would the lichen reach with time? One day, when Caleb was dead and buried below the ground himself, would it stretch to cover the entirety of his parents’ grave?

Who would remember his parents then, when he himself was dead, and lichen and time had obscured every indication of their names?

Caleb looked up. Next to him, Caduceus was still looking at the gravestone, his ears slightly down-turned but not drooping in the way that meant that he was unhappy. He just seemed to be content, quiet and contemplative in the way that so many were when they stepped foot in a graveyard, but Caleb knew that, for Caduceus, it was simply his default state of being. Perhaps he could find that calmness too. Perhaps, one day, he would be as understanding of death as Caduceus was. Perhaps, one day, he would share his memories of his parents with enough people that, even in his absence, they would keep on going. Even if they didn’t know it, people would remember his parents. Even if they had done nothing remarkable, even if they were far from the history books, even if they would never have a display in their name at any museum that Caleb would ever be alive to see, people would still remember them. In small, miniscule ways, their memory would be kept alive. Stories would be told. And when that last story faded, and the last wisp-fine memory of his parents was lost forever… when that day came, Caleb, who would be long-dead himself, would be content with it.

All things fade. All things die.

And, somehow, that was alright.

On his cheeks, Caleb felt his drying tears sinking cold into his cheeks, capturing the ice in the air and holding it close against his skin. He didn’t wipe up to brush them away, didn’t step back from the grave, but he felt them stop rolling, slowly and gradually over a number of minutes. There was still grief in his heart, and there would be for a while yet, but it felt softer, somehow. Gentler. It was no longer some sharp, jagged thing that Caleb carried with him, slicing his chest to ribbons and clawing at his ribcage with every breath. It felt as though it were wrapped in wool now, bound gently and lovingly so that it had space to slumber in.

It felt calm. It felt protected.

It felt, for the first time that he could ever remember, as though he were actually ready to finally, truly, start to move on.

“Come on,” Caleb said, taking another step back from the grave. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They walked back to the little bed and breakfast in silence, hearing the wind whispering through the trees and the birds singing their lonely, mournful melodies. It was a soft silence, a contemplative one, but Caleb felt no urge or pressure to speak. He didn’t feel like he had any more words to say. Whatever words he may have had, whatever thoughts he may have needed to share with Caduceus, he felt that he had given them all at the graveside, with Caduceus’ hand in his own just as it was now. He caught himself rubbing his thumb against the back of Caduceus’ hand a few times as they walked, feeling the soft fur beneath his thumb, but Caduceus never commented on it. He just waited, and walked, and met Caleb in a soft kiss when the door to their room closed behind them, one hand raising to settle on Caleb’s waist.

“Hey,” Caduceus murmured quietly, the word caught between them, and Caleb kissed him again. He didn’t have any reason to kiss Caduceus, but he did it all the same. He wanted to. He wanted to, _needed_ to show Caduceus how much this visit had meant to him, and in the absence of words he could only hope that this would be sufficient. He felt that it would be. He felt that Caduceus would understand. Caduceus knew what this was like, this process of grief and of grieving. He’d walked the metaphorical gravel path to the grave of his own sister, had commemorated her on a clifftop and listened to the waves crashing below, knowing that it was the same water that had taken her life and claimed it for its own. He’d felt the same sadness that Caleb felt, had felt the same anger, the same despair, but where Caleb had wallowed, lost to his own longing for lives that could never be returned, Caduceus had moved on. He’d accepted what Caleb had not, and he’d found his own balancing point of grief and acceptance, and he’d _moved on_. He’d done what Caleb had always considered impossible.

But not anymore.

Now, Caleb could feel the scales starting to tip, the grief that had always been weighing down finally starting to balance out. It would not settle for a while, and he knew that, but even this tiny movement was movement enough. It was progress. Any progress, no matter how small, was better than no progress at all.

Against Caduceus’ lips, Caleb smiled. “Hey,” he murmured back.

“You alright?”

“ _Ja_.” It wasn’t a lie.

Caduceus leaned back a bit and looked down at Caleb, his ears swishing gently. “Oh, that’s good,” he replied, and Caleb smiled wider for the sheer normality of the statement. He liked that about Caduceus. He liked how, even in the wake of a grave visit, Caduceus was still… Caduceus. “Do you want to do anything now? There’s still some of the day left?”

Caleb nodded. He’d only figured out what he really wanted to do once they’d arrived back at the bed and breakfast, and he felt strangely unashamed about saying it. “I do,” he said. “If it’s alright, I’d just like to cuddle.”

Caduceus’ ears swished again. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he replied. “That sounds lovely.”

_Being with you is always lovely,_ Caleb thought, but didn’t say, and he kissed Caduceus again before stepping back, moving over to the bed and shucking off his coat and scarf as he went. They both took off their shoes and got ready in near-silence, only speaking a few quiet murmurs to each other, and when they were both ready, they settled down between the sheets and the blankets, facing each other across the pillows. Caleb reached out almost instinctively, finding Caduceus’ hand beneath the blanket, and used the contact to move closer to him across the mattress, tangling their legs together without a second thought. They didn’t need to speak as they got comfortable, Caleb settling down against Caduceus’ chest in a position that felt as natural as breathing to him, and soon they were both content, with Caleb’s arm resting over Caduceus’ waist and Caduceus’ arms around him, one hand playing gently with Caleb’s hair.

“I’m proud of you,” Caduceus said unexpectedly, out of the still and soft silence.

Caleb frowned. “Why?” he asked.

Caduceus shifted a little, one shoulder raising in a slight shrug. “For coming here,” he replied. “For seeing them.”

“I see them every year.”

“I know. I meant more that I’m proud of you for coming here with me. I know that must have been a change for you, and I’m… well, yeah, I’m proud of you, and I’m glad that you asked me to come with you.”

“…I wanted you to be here,” Caleb admitted quietly. He knew that Caduceus knew that, but he wanted to say it all the same. “I- _ja_. I wanted you to know about them.” _I wanted you to know about me._  “I wanted you to, ah… meet them, I suppose.” _I didn’t want to do this alone for once._ “I am… you have helped me a lot, Caduceus. With many things. And you are very important to me.” Caleb swallowed. He shifted in Caduceus’ arms a little, leaning back so that he could look up at him, waiting to make eye contact before he continued. What he was about to say was important. What he was about to say mattered. He took a break. “If they were alive now,” he continued, “if I hadn’t- if they were here, I would want them to meet you. I would want them to get to know you. I would be- I would be proud to bring you to meet them.”

“That’s sweet,” Caduceus said. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

Caleb shrugged awkwardly. “It’s the truth. I would- I am proud to know you, Caduceus. I am very happy that you are my- that you are my- that we have this. You matter to me, a lot. I would like my parents to have known that.”

“You matter to me, too,” Caduceus replied. “I’d like to have been able to introduce you to Clarabelle. I think she would’ve liked you a lot. I know everyone else in the family will, though. They’ve heard enough about you already. I know at least a couple of them are already pretty fond of you, and of Frumpkin.”

Caleb blinked. Somehow, the idea that Caduceus was in active contact with his family hadn’t even crossed his mind. “You- you tell them about me?”

“Oh, sure. I tell them about everyone at the museum. Honestly, I think I might have told them about Frumpkin first, but they definitely know about you. They know about the others, too, but I’ve- yeah, I’ve definitely been talking more about you, recently.”

“…What have you been telling them?”

Caduceus shrugged again. “Just small things,” he said. “Nothing big. Nothing that I wouldn’t think you would want me to tell them. Just things like how you helped me find that really great book about lichens the other day. You know, when you went right back into the archives just to dig it out? And about how when you returned that hat I leant you one day it had cat hair on it.”

“That was- I’m sorry, that was Frumpkin, I think he must have slept on it-”

“Nah, it’s alright. I didn’t mind. It gave it character.”

Caleb smiled, just a little. “Character?”

“Oh, yeah. Shows it’s been somewhere, you know? It wouldn’t have picked up cat hair at my house. It’s a nice little sign that it’s met someone interesting.”

“Is Frumpkin interesting?”

“Sure he is. I’ve met a number of cats in my time, but Frumpkin is a, ah, especially unique one. And not just because of what he does, either. He’s a good cat.”

“He is,” Caleb agreed. “He, ah, he helps a lot.” He swallowed. “ _You_ help a lot,” he added, quieter. “You- _ja_. With… well, with all of it.”

“Aw, I’m glad to hear that.”

“I- I wanted to thank you for being here,” Caleb continued quietly. “With, um, with me. I am- I am glad that you’re here. I’m glad that we’re- well. I’m glad that I have this with you. I- _ja_ , I like it a lot.” _I like it a lot_. It was an understatement on a scale of magnitudes, but, somehow, it was alright. Caduceus understood. He always did. And when he didn’t, he asked, and Caleb answered. That was how it worked.

But tonight, Caduceus didn’t need to ask anything. He ducked his head, pressing a soft kiss to Caleb’s cheek. “I like this a lot, too,” he replied. “I like you a lot.”

Caleb felt himself flushing. He never liked to assume things, always worried of interpreting a situation incorrectly or mis-reading the meaning in something, but he didn’t have to worry about this. Caduceus only ever said exactly what he meant to say. He meant this. He liked Caleb.

He liked Caleb, and Caleb liked him, and no one else knew. By some miracle, they’d managed to keep it private from the entire rest of the museum, even from Jester, and all because Caleb hadn’t wanted to share Caduceus quite yet. He’d been concerned, in some part of his mind that was still clinging to the museum in Rexxentrum, that at some point Caduceus would say something, or do something, or in some way indicate that though he’d heard Caleb’s struggles he didn’t actually _understand_ them, and then Caleb would be in the same awful, painful situation all over again. He knew that it was a stupid fear, knew that Caduceus understood at least part of his struggle better than perhaps anyone else he’d ever met had, but it was a fear he’d had all the same. Even now, far away from Astrid, he remembered her holding out a small tealight candle towards him, and asking him to light it.

But Caduceus wasn’t Astrid. Caduceus wasn’t going to do that. Caduceus had listened, and observed, and he’d _understood_. Caduceus was safe. Caduceus was someone that Caleb was proud to know and proud to be with, and he’d been keeping this – all of this – a secret from those closest to him.

Maybe now was the time to change that.

“I think…” Caleb started slowly, feeling the thought forming in his mind, “I think that, when we return to Zadash, if it is alright with you… I think I would like to tell the others. About us.”

There was, just for a moment, the tiniest of pauses. And then, as though it had never happened, Caduceus replied. “Yeah?”

“Mm, _ja_. I have- I don’t know, I think I have been putting it off. I didn’t- I didn’t want to- I felt like I would be…”

“Sharing?” Caduceus offered, and Caleb nodded.

“ _Ja_ ,” he muttered. “That.” It was a stupid thought, and he knew it, but, much like with the memory of his parents, what he had with Caduceus felt like it was _his_. It felt like if he were to share it with anyone else, it would somehow lessen what he had with him, even though he knew that that didn’t happen. He’d experienced it not happen. He’d been with Astrid in private for a while, and then they told Wulf, and nothing had changed, and then they told some other people, and nothing changed then, either. Nothing would change when he told other people of Caduceus. Jester might tease him more for not letting her know when she had been entirely correct about their mutual feelings, and Beau might elbow him, and Mollymauk would be undoubtedly delighted, but nothing would really change. Life would continue. The only difference would be that, if he were to tell them, he would be able to hold Caduceus’ hand at lunch, and kiss him in the hallways, and not worry about someone else seeing.

“I’d like that,” Caduceus replied, his voice soft in the silent darkness. “When do you want to tell them? I mean, there’s no rush, we can let them know whenever you feel comfortable with it, or we can discuss it and plan it or-”

“Whenever I get the chance,” Caleb said, surprising them both. “I- _ja_. I want to tell them whenever I next get the chance. I want them to know. I would like it to be soon.”

Caduceus didn’t even hesitate.

“Alright,” he replied, and he kissed Caleb again. “Soon.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by [fswrites](https://twitter.com/fswrites)!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on **October 28th!**


	19. Chapter 19

They spent the rest of the weekend in Blumenthal. Caleb showed Caduceus around the little town, introducing him to the secret shops and tucked away places and quiet spaces that had been his all throughout his childhood. He showed him the fields that surrounded the town, showed him the barely-visible rabbit paths leading through the cropped-short stalks of wheat and barley, showed him the copse of trees that clung close to one of the fields and listened in quiet delight as Caduceus spoke amiably to the trees, complimenting the needle-straight leaves of the pines and telling Caleb all about a particular type of mushroom that he found growing on one. It was a quiet day, made quieter still by the memory of the graveside still lingering in the back of their minds, but it was nice. It was peaceful. It still felt odd to Caleb, to be sharing these places and these memories with someone else after so much time keeping them all to himself, but it didn’t feel bad. It just felt strange, as though he were stretching a muscle that hadn’t been used in a long, long time. He caught himself smiling more and more often as the weekend continued, and once he even caught himself about to say something in response to Caduceus that made mention of his parents. It wasn’t a particularly serious comment, wasn’t about anything major, but he caught himself all the same, more out of habit than anything else. He hadn’t had cause to mention his parents for a long, long time, but somehow, in Caduceus’ company, it felt easy. Caleb remembered Caduceus’ words at the graveside, and the ease that had come with sharing the weight of his memories with another person. He remembered how strangely nice it had felt.

And so he caught Caduceus’ eye, and opened his mouth, and told Caduceus about the strawberry plant that his father tried to raise one time. Caduceus had smiled back at that, listening happily to Caleb’s story, and when Caleb had finished his two small, short sentences, he’d laughed quietly, and shook his head, and told Caleb that his father would have gotten on brilliantly with one of Caduceus’ own siblings.

It had been that simple. It had been that easy. Caleb had told Caduceus about his parents, and Caduceus had listened, and then the conversation moved on as one more strand of mycelium grew between them.

On Sunday afternoon they packed up, saying their goodbyes to Blumenthal. They loaded their bags back into Caleb’s car and set off again, starting the long drive back to Zadash and leaving the town of memories behind them. Caleb didn’t watch it recede into the distance behind him, not wanting to move his eyes from the road, but he knew how long it took for them to be far enough away that the rolling hills and shifting fields obscured it entirely from view. He knew that, once they turned a certain corner in the road, he would no longer be able to see the roofs and buildings of his hometown.

Caduceus, it seemed, knew too. He reached out across the space between their seats as Blumenthal grew further and further behind them, resting one hand on Caleb’s knee. He didn’t say anything, not making any move to break the soft, contemplative silence between them, but Caleb felt his thumb brushing back and forth over the curve of his knee in a steady, soothing gesture. It was a tiny thing, so simply and casually done that it could have meant anything at all, but Caleb knew better than that. He knew, now, how Caduceus tended to think. He knew how perceptive Caduceus was, knew how he tended to pick up on Caleb’s emotions and feelings even before Caleb himself did. He knew when to offer Caleb comfort, and he knew how to cheer him up, and he knew, right now, that this was all Caleb needed; a small, simple touch, grounding him as he left his hometown behind him.

By the time they arrived back in Zadash, the time was pressing well into the night. Their original plan, at the start of the journey, had been for Caleb to unload and feed Frumpkin at his own house before giving Caduceus a ride back to his home, giving both of them the time they needed to unpack their bags before heading into work in the morning, but as they started drawing into Zadash, weaving through the streets en route to Caleb’s home, Caleb found that he wasn’t ready to part from Caduceus quite yet. The thought didn’t come as any surprise to him, though. He’d just had the entire weekend with Caduceus, spending two nights in a row curled up in bed with him, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth and security of his arms around him, and at no point had he found himself wanting space from him. Not in the little bed and breakfast, and not on their slow, ambling walks, and not even at the graveside, the place that had been so private and so personal to Caleb for so long. He didn’t want to have to go to bed on his own tonight. He didn’t want to wake up unable to see Caduceus’ soft, sleepy smile, and his sleep-mussed hair, and he didn’t want to have to wait until he got to work to kiss Caduceus again. He didn’t want any of that.

Caleb pulled over outside his house, parking the car in silence. For a moment neither of them spoke, instead merely listening as the occasional car passed by them - a brief asterisk of noise that soon faded back into nothing. Caduceus’ hand was no longer on Caleb’s knee, pressing warmth into his skin, but even from this distance Caleb could smell the tea and peat and petrichor scent that clung so close to him. He could feel it settling in his lungs, chasing out any last remnants of smoke and gas and soot. There were no sparks inside his skull, now. There was no gas on his tongue. There was just him, and Caduceus, and the faint sound of Frumpkin snoring inside his carrycase on the back seats.

Without speaking Caleb reached out, taking Caduceus’ hand in his own. Caduceus didn’t resist, immediately turning his hand over to lace his fingers with Caleb’s without so much as a murmur.

“Would you stay tonight?” Caleb asked, his voice quiet in the star-hung darkness. “Would you stay with me?”

Caduceus didn’t even hesitate. “Of course,” he replied, his hand warm around Caleb’s, and Caleb smiled. “Of course I would.”

\---

Caleb woke the next morning to the sound of Caduceus’ soft snores, overlaid with the quiet beeping of his alarm. He reached out blindly, fumbling around on his bedside table until he managed to turn it off, and then he cuddled back down into Caduceus’ arms, not quite feeling entirely ready to wake up and face the reality of Zadash quite yet. Against his front, he felt Caduceus stirring, similarly gradually coming to consciousness, and after not too long Caleb heard him yawn, feeling him stretching slightly beneath the warm embrace of the covers.

“Mm, good morning,” Caduceus murmured, sleep hanging from syllable.

Caleb blinked up at him. Somehow, impossibly, Caduceus already seemed to be more awake than he was. “Mm,” he managed to mumble. “Mm, _ja_. _Guten morgen._ ”

Caduceus smiled, slow and lazy. “You sleep well?”

“Mm.”

“Good. That’s good.” Caduceus yawned again, stretching once more. “Mm, come on, we should probably get up.”

Caleb frowned. “Do we?”

“Yeah, I think so. We have work.”

Caleb grumbled, a vague blur of discontent sound. “ _Work,_ ” he echoed. He turned his head, pressing his face against Caduceus’ chest, and cuddled in closer still, burying himself under the blankets of the bed.

When Caduceus laughed, Caleb felt it in his bones. “Yeah,” Caduceus said. “I’m afraid so.”

Another grumble. Another soft laugh from Caduceus.

“Tell you what,” Caduceus said, raising his hand to start carding it through Caleb’s hair, “how about you stay right here, hm? I can get up on my own, head downstairs, maybe make you some coffee, and then we can head in together. Would that be alright?”

Caleb pondered this. Coffee sounded fantastic right about then, but he didn’t feel ready to let Caduceus go quite yet. Still, he knew that Caduceus had a point. Whether he liked it or not he _did_ eventually have to go into work, and it would be better to do that with coffee in his system than with no coffee at all.

Caleb sighed. “Fine,” he mumbled, and, as though fighting against gravity, forced himself back from Caduceus. “ _Ich-_ fine.”

He felt the bed shift beneath him, and a moment later the warmth that he’d been clinging to so closely mere moments again vanished, leaving him shivering before the blankets were dropped back down over him. He felt Caduceus’ lips press to his cheek in a kiss and he turned his head into it, absently capturing Caduceus’ lips with his own before blinking his eyes open.

Caduceus smiled. “Hey,” he said. “Go back to sleep, alright? I’ll be up with coffee in a bit.”

Caleb smiled back at him. In the weak winter sunlight filtering through his bedroom curtains Caduceus looked beautiful, his pink fur now so pale as to be the colour of snow itself. He looked fey, ethereal, like some altogether strange and stunning winter spirit made flesh, but he wasn’t any of that. He was just Caduceus.

“Alright,” Caleb mumbled, and shut his eyes again. “Alright…” Distantly, he felt Caduceus kiss his cheek again, but this time he didn’t turn his head into it. He was tired, and sleepy, and he didn’t feel like moving quite yet. Here, in bed, at home, there was nothing but comfort, and safety, and the smell of Caduceus still pressed into the pillows.

Eventually, of course, Caleb did have to move. He stirred when Caduceus returned to the bedroom a few minutes later, coffee in hand, and after drinking it and waking up a little more he managed to force himself out of bed. He got ready that morning with Caduceus, just how he had in Blumenthal, but it felt different to be doing it in his own home, instead of in some small bed and breakfast that they were only staying in for the weekend. It felt more domestic, more intimate; it felt _right_ , somehow, and that was perhaps the least strange bit of all. It felt right to eat a quick breakfast with Caduceus; it felt right to pass him his shirt as they got dressed; it felt right to leave the house with Frumpkin around his shoulders and Caduceus’ hand held firmly in his, their breath making plumes in the chilly winter air.

It even felt right to part from Caduceus once they arrived at the museum. They both had jobs to do, both had tasks to attend to, and Caleb was alright with that. It wouldn’t be long until he saw Caduceus again, after all, and it was nice to see Nott again when she arrived at the office a few minutes after he did and listen to her stories of her son and husband. Talking to Nott was nice. Working at the museum was nice. The people were nice, and their acceptance of Frumpkin and Caleb’s anxiety was nice, and it was all just… nice.

It was all comfortable.

Somehow, the knowledge that soon everyone in the Asshole Squad would know about him and Caduceus only scared him a _tiny_ bit.

Telling the others went just about as Caleb had expected it to. He hadn’t even been intending to tell them when it happened, not really, but he’d forgotten just how perceptive Jester was when he walked into the break room with Caduceus’ hand still held in his own. They’d sat down together on the sofa that Caleb had mentally designated as ‘theirs’ and conversation flowed easily, with Beau and Molly trading friendly barbs that bordered on outright offensive and rude, and Jester and Nott chattering away excitedly about some big winter party that Jester was planning. Caleb wasn’t entirely sure of all the details of it, but he didn’t feel the urge to ask questions. It was nice to just sit like this, content and comfortable, listening to the conversation swirling around him. It was safe here. _He_ was safe here.

Caleb sighed, absently squeezing Caduceus’ hand, and leaned back against the sofa.

“Oh my _gods!”_ Jester exclaimed suddenly, her voice piercing through the room sharply enough to make Caleb jump. “ _Caleb!”_

Caleb turned to look at her, his eyes wide. Jester was half-twisted in her seat, looking over at where he and Caduceus sat with what was quite possibly the most delighted expression he had ever seen on her face. Her tail was waving wildly behind her, swishing backwards and forwards so hard that Nott had to bat it away from her face, and Jester’s own face was squished firmly between her two hands, her gaze fixed on some point between Caleb and Caduceus.

Caleb frowned. “ _…Ja_?” he asked.

Jester just wiggled. “ _Caleb!”_

“… _Ja,_ that is my name. Do you need to- are you alright?”

Jester made a small, delighted-sounded squeal. Caleb, feeling more confused than ever, glanced up at Caduceus, who merely shrugged, and then looked over at Fjord. Fjord looked just as confused as Caleb felt, but Beau, who was sitting next to him, had a look on her face that implied that she knew exactly what was going on with Jester.

Caleb caught her eye. “Beauregard?” he called, as Jester wiggled again, her tail lashing back and forth with absolute delight. “What is- do you know what Jester is doing?”

Beau raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure I do,” she replied. She lifted her chin, nodding down towards where Caleb and Caduceus’ legs pressed together. “I mean… you guys aren’t exactly being subtle.”

“We aren’t being subtle about _what_?” Caleb asked. Beau nodded again, more urgently, and Caleb, still frowning, looked down. “I don’t know what you’re- oh.”

“Yeah,” he heard Beau say.

“Ah.”

“Mm-hm.”

Resting atop Caleb’s knee was his hand, still intertwined with Caduceus’.

“Oh,” Caleb said, his own voice sounding distant to his ears. “Oh, I, ah, I, um, we-”

“Are you two, like, _boyfriends_?” Jester interrupted, delight and excitement evident in every syllable. “Are you, like, _in love_? Are you-”

Caleb coughed, loudly and suddenly, feeling like he was choking on air. “ _N-nein_ ,” he wheezed, but he didn’t think he could be heard over Jester’s continued questions, and the background babble of everyone else speaking. “We are- we are not- we are…”

Caleb trailed off into silence, as, all around him, people continued to talk. If he was honest, it wasn’t something that he’d actually thought about at all, not in all the time that he and Caduceus had been… whatever it was that they were. In part it was because he’d never felt like he’d had to, had never felt like he needed to assign a label of any kind to whatever it was that they had, but it was more than just that. He knew from Astrid what it was like to be in a relationship, but he wasn’t sure if that was definitely what this was. He and Astrid had been… different to this, tremendously so. He’d loved her, and adored her, and they had been boyfriend and girlfriend – weak and insufficient as Caleb felt those words to be – for quite a while, and it hadn’t felt like this. It had been similar, sure, but not identical. Caleb didn’t entirely know what he and Caduceus were. He wasn’t entirely sure if Caduceus was his boyfriend, or if he was Caduceus’ boyfriend. It was a nice thought – he couldn’t deny that – but it was an uncertain one. He knew how slow this had all been. He knew how long it had taken them, had taken _him_ , to get to this point. He didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to rush Caduceus. He didn’t want to make Caduceus uncomfortable by saying, here and now, without any hope of conversation, that they were absolutely, definitely, undeniably boyfriends.

After all, what if he thought that they were boyfriends, and assigned that label to them, and then it turned out that he was wrong?

What if it turned out that Caduceus disagreed?

“No,” Caleb said. His voice was quiet but it cut through the room all the same, gathering silence about it. He cleared his throat, squeezing Caduceus hand, and tried again. “No, we are, we’re- we’re not- I’m-… we’re just us,” he said eventually. “We are just- _ja_. Just us. That is- that’s all.”

At his side, Caduceus made no move to speak, but Caleb felt him squeezing his hand back. He hoped that what he said was okay. He hoped that Caduceus understood.

Jester’s face fell slightly. “Oh,” she said, sounding almost disappointed, but then she almost visibly shook herself, straightening up somewhat. “Well, hey, that’s okay!” she continued, her voice firmer and more determined. “That’s totally fine! You just be whatever you want to be, and that’s all you _have_ to be if it makes you happy! Don’t let _anyone_ tell you that you have to be _anything_ to be happy, okay?”

“I- okay.”

“Good! Oh, and speaking of being happy!” Jester stood up suddenly, balancing on the sofa, and then clapped her hands as though trying to attract the attention of the Asshole Squad, despite the fact they were all already looking at her. “Guys! It’s that time of year again!”

“What time of year would that be?” Fjord asked, frowning, and Jester sighed dramatically.

“The _best_ time of year, Fjord!” she repeated. “It’s nearly _winter_ , which means I have to throw a _winter party_ , and because I love you all and you’re all my best friends I’m inviting all of you! It’s going to be super cool, okay, and it’s super important that you’re all there because otherwise it won’t feel all festive and nice and happy which is why I’m letting you know _now_!”

“Right,” Fjord replied. “And this party of yours would be when, exactly? Just to make sure that we all have enough time to-”

“It’ll be next week,” Jester answered instantly. “And it’ll be at my flat, and it won’t go on _too_ late-”

“-at yours-” Molly interrupted, a wide grin on his face.

Jester nodded, continuing without missing a beat. “It won’t go on for too long at _mine_ ,” she agreed, “but Molly will probably be having some sort of afterparty if you want to go to that, but mostly it’ll just be all of us hanging out and partying and chatting and having a really good time! And I’m inviting everyone else who’s cool, too, so you’d better be there!”

Caleb smiled, listening to the growing conversation as Beau and Nott chimed in, and, unnoticed by everyone else, turned his head to press a quick kiss to Caduceus’ lips.

\---

Somehow another week had passed seemingly without Caleb’s notice, and before he knew it, it was the night of Jester’s annual winter party.

“ _Caleb!”_ Jester squealed the moment she opened her door to see Caleb and Caduceus standing on the other side, immediately reaching out to wrap Caleb up in a tight, squeezing hug, physically lifting him up off the ground. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t know if you would make it!”

“I- _Ich_ \- I said that I would be here,” Caleb managed to wheeze, feeling his ribs starting to quietly complain as Jester squeezed him again before setting him down on his feet. “I- _Gods_ , you are strong, Jester- I told you that I would be here. I accepted the email invite when you finally sent it out.”

Jester rolled her eyes. “ _Please_ ,” she replied, “everyone knows those don’t _actually_ matter. And you looked kind of uncertain about it when I mentioned it the other day. I figured you’d be, you know…” She trailed off, shrugging, and Caleb raised an eyebrow.

“That I would be what?”

“Well… I don’t know, I guess I thought you’d be all _you_. Like, you’d stay at home, or at the museum, or something like that. Although, I guess Caduceus _does_ always come to my parties, so I suppose I could have assumed that he would drag you along now that you’re, you know…” Jester trailed off, waggling her eyebrows. Caleb groaned.

“ _Jester_.”

The eyebrows waggled harder. “ _Yes_ , Caleb?”

“We’re not- we aren’t-”

“I know, I know, I know!” Jester said immediately. “I was just gonna say that Caduceus and you are, like _super_ close now, so if anyone was going to get you to one of my parties it was going to be Caduceus. Also, hi Caduceus!”

For a moment there was a pause.

Caleb squeezed Caduceus’ hand. The firbolg shifted suddenly, drawing his gaze away from what had previously been holding it and instead looking down towards Jester.

“Mm?” Caduceus asked. “Oh, sorry, I was looking at the wreath on your door. It’s really pretty. Very festive.”

Jester dimpled at him. “Thanks! My momma gave it to me!”

“She’s got a good eye for decorations.”

“I _know_! It’s, like, really pretty, and winter-ey, and just the best! My momma is so _good_ , you guys!” She stepped aside, gesturing them into the flat. “Anyway, come in, come in! Everyone else is already here! And there’s loads of snacks in the lounge and drinks in the kitchen and you can leave all your coats and stuff in my bedroom if you want because Molly’s stuff is taking up the _entire coat rack_ , but I’m not actually mad about it because his outfit is super cool _and_ he said he’d let me borrow some of his heels for New Years!”

Caleb stepped forward, letting himself be shepherded into Jester’s flat. “That’s nice,” he said, his voice a little absent. He could already feel the years-old fear prickling at the back of his skull, Frumpkin becoming a more obvious weight on his shoulders. “Ah, Jester, would you mind if I…” Caleb trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his request, but, as it turned out, he didn’t need to. He’d almost forgotten that Jester had seen him after the fire alarm. He’d almost forgotten that Jester, like so many others in the museum, knew slightly better now the role that Frumpkin played in his life.

Jester’s eyes went wide immediately. “Oh, yeah, of course!” she said, pausing just inside the living room door. Even with her blocking the line of sight Caleb could see the mass of bodies that filled the room, and his heart sank slightly. Frumpkin worked best without distractions, and he worked best when Caleb didn’t have to worry about him being kicked.

Although tonight, it seemed, he didn’t have to worry about that at all.

“ _Everyone get out of the way_!” Jester shouted into the living room. Her voice was somehow even louder than normal in the cramped confines of her flat – Caleb was sure that he saw Yasha jump, only flinching further when Mollymauk’s indistinctive twitch resulted in him jabbing an elbow into her side. “Move, move, move! Frumpkin needs to do his thing!”

“Jester-” Mollymauk started, only to be immediately cut off by the tiefling in question walking briskly across the room and flapping a hand in his face.

“No, shh, no buts!” she said. “You’re blocking Caleb’s line of sight and that’s really not cool! He needs to see his cat!”

“Wha-”

“Don’t question it! Just _move_!” Jester reached out, grabbing Molly’s arm and physically dragging him to one side. Mollymauk looked a little confused but he went with her all the same, though Caleb suspected that he didn’t really have much choice in the matter – for someone who more often than not looked like she’d chosen her clothing out of a child’s dress-up box and had then run head-first into a palette of paints, Jester could be almost terrifyingly strong at times.

Her moving Molly seemed to prompt everyone else to move, too; soon people were shuffling carefully around Jester’s countless festive decorations, falling quiet as Caleb murmured his thanks to them. He helped Frumpkin down from his shoulders, setting him down on the floor, and it didn’t take long at all for Frumpkin to carry out his check without issue. The moment he was done, signalling the all-clear to Caleb, Caleb felt his shoulders relax, the last shards of concern melting away.

“All good?” Caduceus murmured by his shoulder, and Caleb nodded, smiling as, all around him, conversation returned to the room as though nothing had happened. As though all of this was normal.

“ _Ja_ ,” he replied. “All good.”

It didn’t take long after that for him and Caduceus to drop off their coats (and scarves, and hats, and Frumpkin’s raincoat) in Jester’s bedroom, adding them to the mound that was rapidly growing atop her donut-patterned bedsheets, and then they moved back through to the living room, where Jester was already delighting in her hosting duties. Jester’s flat was small, and cramped, and only made more crowded still by the presence of what seemed like every single person from the museum that Caleb had ever spoken to. He’d spotted Mollymauk again immediately – it was hard not to, seeing how the tiefling seemed to be dressed like a particularly flamboyant and festive disco ball with additional sequins – as well as Yasha, and Beau, and Fjord, and Nott off in one corner, talking and laughing between themselves. There was also Keg, Calianna, Shakaste, and Bryce – though Caleb was willing to admit that he never would have thought to see Bryce at an event like this, casual as it was – and a number of other people from the museum, all of them crammed into Jester’s tiny, over-decorated flat. It was loud, and riotous, and almost immediately overwhelming.

And it was nice.

There wasn’t a single person in the flat who didn’t know him, and there wasn’t a single person in the flat who didn’t like him. There were some people who he hadn’t spoken to much, like Twiggy and Bryce, but he recognised everyone, and they were all people who smiled at him in the corridor and wished him a good morning when they saw him. They were all people who genuinely seemed to care about him, and about his anxieties, and who were polite when they asked if they could pet Frumpkin and were understanding when Caleb said no, explaining that this was a very new environment for both of them. Everyone was nice, and Caleb soon found himself drawn into Mollymauk and Beau’s conversation about the merits and flaws of dunking fries in ice-cream, before he got pulled aside by Nott to settle a disagreement she was having with Yasha, shortly after which Fjord found him in order to compliment him on how his new filing system really seemed to have sped things up locating books in the library and archives. It was all nice. It was all familiar. Caleb had a drink in his hand, and Frumpkin on his shoulders, and he could see Caduceus’ snow-pale hair easily above the heads and shoulders of everyone else. The flat was warm and cosy, every wall hung with countless sparkling, shining winter decorations, and with the windows all fogged up from the warmth of everyone’s presence the entire flat felt pleasantly isolated, like a little bubble of comfort and safety.

But even with how safe he felt, Caleb still found himself starting to feel a little overwhelmed after several hours in Jester’s busy, noisy flat. He politely excused himself from the conversation he’d been having with Calianna and Yasha and made his way out to the little hallway of Jester’s flat, breathing a quiet sigh of relief the moment he was outside the living room. With the door into the room still open there wasn’t much difference in volume, but it was enough.

“They’re certainly all feeling very festive, aren’t they?” he murmured to Frumpkin, lifting a hand and gently petting his cat before gently helping him down to the floor, giving him a chance to stretch his legs again. “Everyone seems to be having a good time, though.”

“They do,” said a wonderfully familiar voice from behind him. Caleb straightened up and turned, a smile already tugging on his lips, and felt himself smile wider the moment he laid eyes on Caduceus, who smiled back at him. “I saw you leave,” he said by way of explanation, tilting his head back towards the living room. “Figured I might as well check that you were doing alright. If you want time alone though, that’s fine. Just let me know.”

“ _Nein, nein_ ,” Caleb said quickly, shaking his head. “No, this is- your company is always welcome, Caduceus.”

Caduceus’ smile widened. “Yeah?” he asked.

“ _Ja,_ of course.” Caleb reached out unthinkingly, his hand hanging in the space between them. “Come here?” he asked, for no reason other than to have Caduceus be closer to him, and Caduceus, unhesitatingly, took his hand and stepped forwards. Caleb tugged gently, drawing Caduceus in until they were almost chest to chest, and then he dropped his hand from Caduceus’, instead resting both his hands on Caduceus’ hips. Caduceus was warm beneath his palms, the fabric of his shirt soft and supple. Caleb could feel the bones of his hips nudging against his skin, the shape of them familiar now beneath his fingers.

He looked up slightly. Against the light of Jester’s hallway lamp, Caduceus almost seemed to be haloed in gold.

“ _Hallo_ ,” Caleb hummed. He could feel himself smiling, _knew_ that he was smiling like a smitten idiot, and did nothing to stop it. He didn’t want to stop it. “Are you alright, _Liebling_?”

“Hm?” Caduceus replied. “Oh, yeah, I’m doing great. It’s been really nice properly talking to everyone, you know. It’s been good to catch up with Molly, too. It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper talk.”

“ _Ja_?”

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy. So’s Fjord. So’s everyone, actually. It’s all very nice.” Caduceus smiled a little more, giving a slight shrug, and, just then, Caleb spotted something green dangling above them.

Hanging above them, right in the middle of the ceiling, was a large cluster of mistletoe.

“What are you looking at?” Caduceus asked curiously as, after a few seconds, Caleb still hadn’t replied. Caleb could only nod upwards, caught halfway between laughter and awkwardness. Somehow, he hadn’t been expecting for there to be mistletoe. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to be caught underneath it. But now that it was happening, he wasn’t actually sure if he wanted to complain about it or not.

It was then that Caduceus looked up, and Caleb saw the moment his eyes widened at the realisation of what he was seeing.

“Oh, hey!” Caduceus said, his voice warm and delighted. “I didn’t realise Jester had put up mistletoe. Huh.”

Caleb coughed quietly, feeling himself flush. He didn’t doubt that Caduceus, with all his knowledge of plants and their purposes and meanings, understood the common connotations of mistletoe, especially at this time of the year, especially in this situation. “She- _ja_. She did.”

“That’s really nice.” Caduceus looked back down at Caleb, his ears swishing, and Caleb moved in a little closer, smiling despite his slight awkwardness. He’d never really been fond of the idea of mistletoe kisses, always thinking them to be something cliché and a bit silly, but, right now, the idea was a tempting one. He wanted to be kissed by Caduceus, here in the soft and warm lighting, with his friends in the next room and his cat by his ankles, in this space where he was accepted and wanted exactly as he was. He reached out unconsciously, resting his hands on Caduceus’ waist, and stretched up just a little, tilting his head back so that he could continue to look at Caduceus.

“It is,” he agreed, and he could hear how soft his own words were, could feel the care and fondness that lay behind each and every one of them. “It’s very nice.”

“Yeah!” Caduceus replied enthusiastically. He looked up at the mistletoe again, his eyes sparkling amber in the light of the fairylights that Jester had strung up throughout the rooms, and then he glanced back down at Caleb, meeting his gaze with a soft swish of his ears. He was beautiful beneath the light of the tiny, flickering bulbs – his grey fur was dusted in gold and amber, making him look almost as though he were gilded in places, and his pale pink eyes almost seemed to glow, rich and warm and utterly gorgeous. His hair, almost entirely white now with the cusp of winter so close at hand, was turned a soft, ethereal platinum by the lights, as though it were sunlight woven through mist. It looked beautiful. _He_ looked beautiful.

Caleb wanted to kiss him so, so much.

He stretched up a little, his thumbs brushing back and forth over Caduceus’ shirt. He could feel the slender line of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, could feel the warmth of it, and he adored it. 

“Yeah?” he asked. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what else to do. He wanted to listen to Caduceus, and he wanted to kiss him, and he knew that he would be happy with either of those outcomes. He leaned up a little, tilting his head back, and immediately Caduceus leant down to meet him, just as he always did when they kissed.

“Did you know,” Caduceus said, his lips mere inches from Caleb’s, “that mistletoe is a parasitic plant? It likes to latch onto other plants – normally trees – and sort of, ah, take their sunlight and nutrients and suchlike from them. It’s really fascinating. It can choke out entire trees if left on its own. And the berries are toxic, too!”

For a moment, all Caleb could do was blink. And then, slowly but surely, he felt a smile start to spread across his face.

“Caduceus,” he murmured, feeling his lips starting to turn up at the corners. He stretched up, not seeking to kiss Caduceus but merely wanting to be close to him, and a moment later Caduceus ducked his head further to press their foreheads together. His hands were warm on Caleb’s hips, holding him close, and Caleb could smell the peat and tea and petrichor scent of him, could see the fuzzy pinkness of his eyes and could feel the softness of his peach-fuzz-like fur pressing against his skin. “Caduceus, you are… you are…”

“Yeah?”

“ _Wunderbar_ ,” Caleb said. “Wonderful.”

He couldn’t see Caduceus’ smile, close as he was, but he knew that it was there. He could hear it in Caduceus’ voice.

“Yeah?” Caduceus asked again, but his voice was warmer this time, impossibly softer and quietly delighted.

“Mm,” Caleb hummed. “You really, really are. I- you mean a lot to me. I’m very fond of you, Caduceus.”

“Aww, thanks. I’m fond of you too, Caleb.”

“And by the way, you do know,” Caleb continued, “that mistletoe normally has another meaning, when it’s hung up like this?”

There was a pause.

“Oh,” Caduceus said eventually. “Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah it does. Man. I completely forgot about that.”

“ _Ja_ , I could tell.”

“I’m sorry about that. Mistletoe is just really interesting, I didn’t mean to go on-”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Caleb assured him quickly. He felt himself smiling wider and he ran his thumbs over Caduceus’ sides, delighting in the warmth he could feel beneath the layer of fabric separating them. “It’s alright,” he repeated. “I liked you talking about mistletoe. It was very, um, very _you_. It was nice. I liked it a lot.”

“Yeah?” Caduceus asked, and Caleb shut his eyes at the softness in his voice, tilting his head up until their lips brushed together. It was easy to do this, was easy to _be_ around Caduceus. It was easy to move closer, and it was easy to reach for him, and it was easy to listen to him and take his hand and it was easy to kiss him just because he wanted to. He didn’t have to worry about anything with Caduceus. If this wasn’t wanted, if this kiss wasn’t desired, then Caduceus would let him know, and Caleb would accept it, and it would be alright. It was simple. Everything with Caduceus was simple.

Caleb cared for him so, so much.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He could feel his lips brushing against Caduceus’, could feel the warmth of Caduceus’ breath against his lips, and it made him feel excited and warm and safe all at once. It felt familiar. It felt like home. “I always like listening to you speak, Caduceus.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Mm. Caduceus?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here,” Caleb murmured, his voice achingly fond. He tugged gently on Caduceus’ waist, still smiling, and felt Caduceus laugh softly against his lips before, a moment later, Caduceus kissed him, and Caleb felt himself melt. He stretched up onto his tip-toes, tightening his hands in Caduceus’ ridiculous, wonderful, oversized cardigan as he kissed him back. Caduceus’ lips were soft, the kiss sweet and gentle, and Caleb loved it. He loved everything about it. He loved the absent-minded, unconscious care in Caduceus’ touch; he loved how Caduceus made little, half-laughed, huffing breaths against his lips; he loved the smell of tea that surrounded him, and he loved the distant babble of conversation from Jester’s living room, and he loved the Zadash natural history museum and he loved his job and he loved his cat and he loved the memory of his parents and he loved _being here_ , right now, in this moment.

He loved what he had with Caduceus.

He thought that, perhaps, he loved Caduceus too, in the same way that plants love sunlight.

But it was more than that. He realised it as the kiss broke and they both took a moment just to breathe, their foreheads still pressed together. It wasn’t just the blind, inherent love of nature. It was more than that, was more deliberate than that. It was true that he hadn’t realised his own feelings for Caduceus at first, and perhaps this was an extension of that, but that didn’t matter right now. It didn’t matter how long it had taken for him to realise. It just mattered that he had.

He could feel it in his chest, glowing like sunlight, like stars, like embers in the aftermath of a fire. It wasn’t the same love that he had felt for Astrid – far from it, in fact – but it was similar. It held the same heat, the same warmth, the same adoration and the same desire for closeness, but where his love for Astrid had burned as hot and as bright as the sun, blinding him to so many other things, his love for Caduceus was infinitely softer. It didn’t burn. It didn’t blind. It just… settled. Caleb could feel it all throughout his chest, wound around his ribs and through the veins of his heart and chasing through his body, warming him down to the marrow as his love for Caduceus found a home for itself in every area of his being. It wasn’t something that could be questioned – it was just something that _was_. He cared for Caduceus. He adored Caduceus. He trusted Caduceus.

He loved Caduceus, and know he knew that, too.

Against his lips, Caleb felt the soft, regular pattern of Caduceus’ breathing. His neck ached a little, tilted back as his head was, but he didn’t care. He liked doing this. He liked how easy it was to be still and quiet with Caduceus, even when all the world seemed filled with noise and sound. He could still hear the rest of the party over in Jester’s living room, could hear laughter and music and conversation and could even pick out individual voices if he really tried, but despite that, he still felt quiet. He still felt calm. It felt almost as though he was in a bubble with no one else but Caduceus; some soft, private place for just the two of them, where the world wouldn’t disturb them and they only had to worry about each other. Caleb lifted his head, pressing another kiss to Caduceus’ lips, and felt Caduceus smile against him. He loved Caduceus’ smile. He loved all of him.

“Caduceus?” Caleb murmured, and even before Caduceus answered, Caleb knew what Caduceus would say.

“Yeah?”

Caleb smiled. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, waiting and expectant and utterly thoughtless. There was no consideration to them. There was no doubt. These words had bypassed all the anxiety and worry in his mind and surged right to the forefront of his mind, demanding to be spoken and said and acknowledged. He wanted to acknowledge them. He needed to acknowledge them.

He needed Caduceus to know. “I lo-”

“ _Aww!”_ said a voice off to one side, cutting Caleb off mid-sentence.

Caleb didn’t jump, but it was a close thing. He caught his instinctive, startled swear behind his teeth as he twisted around awkwardly, his gaze immediately landing on the bright blue tiefling who was watching them from the doorway of the living room.

“You guys are so _cute_!” Jester squealed, practically bouncing towards them. “I mean you’re both _cute,_ you know, like you’re both kind of _adorable_ and _attractive_ and all that, but together you’re, like, super cute! You both look so happy!” She lifted her hands, squishing her cheeks between them. “ _Look at you!_ ”

Caleb looked away, feeling himself turning an even darker, stronger red than his hair, but he didn’t step away from Caduceus. He didn’t move his hands from Caduceus’ waist, didn’t break the points of contact between them, and Caduceus’ hands on his hips stayed just as steady and certain. “I, ah… thank you?”

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Jester replied. “And you’re welcome for the mistletoe, too. I _knew_ it would be useful when I hung it up there.”

“Did you know that it’s a parasite?” Caduceus asked cheerfully, and Jester immediately wrinkled her nose.

“ _No_ ,” she replied. “That’s kind of cool, though. Like, gross, but also cool.”

“A lot of things in nature fit into that category, I feel.”

“I mean, I guess. But, whatever!” Jester continued, shaking her head and making the small silver bells on her horns jingle cheerfully. “That’s not important! What’s important is that you guys are super, super, _super_ cute together!”

Caleb felt his blush deepening, even as he felt the corners of his lips turning up in a small, almost proud smile. “Ah, thank you,” he mumbled. “We, um… _ja_. Thank you.”

“And you look so _happy_!” Jester continued delightedly, almost bouncing in place. She squished her cheeks again before clapping her hands a few times, her tail waving behind her. Caleb hadn’t known any tiefling well enough to really pick up on tiefling tail language, but he felt that he could fathom a guess at what it meant. Jester’s tail tended to become more energetic when she got excited. _All_ of Jester tended to become more energetic when she got excited. “I mean, like, you weren’t _grumpy_ when you started at the museum, you know,” she continued, “but you were very sort of… I don’t know, all gloomy. Not, like, super gloomy, and you were definitely less gloomy with Frumpkin, but still… yeah, you just seemed kind of sad all the time.” Jester shrugged, pulling an upset face. “And I didn’t like seeing you being all quiet and sad – although some people are just naturally quiet, I know that, that’s totally fine – because you always look so handsome when you smile and you should smile more often and be happy more often because everyone should be happy more often! And you seem happier now, and that’s a really good thing, Caleb! It’s good to be happy! You should be happy! We all think you’re super nice, and super cool, and Caduceus _definitely_ thinks that you’re nice-”

“I do, yeah, that’s very true-”

“-you see! And I bet that he thinks that you’re really attractive too…” Jester continued with a small, half-smirked smile, peeking up at Caduceus from the corner of her eye. Caduceus laughed softly, his eyes sparkling.

“I do think that, too,” he admitted. “I think you’re extremely handsome, Caleb. You’re a very good-looking man.”

Caleb felt himself starting to flush. “I- thank you,” he managed to mumble. “I- you’re very handsome too, Caduceus.”

Caduceus laughed again, ducking his head to press a kiss to the crown of Caleb’s head as easily as breathing. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. And I should tell you that you’re handsome more often, I think. You go a very pretty colour when I say it.”

_Gods, damn it_. Caleb couldn’t stop himself from smiling a little, even as he felt his flush getting worse. “Do I?” he asked quietly, decidedly ignoring Jester’s ‘ _aww’_ in the background.

“Yeah,” Caduceus replied. “It’s a really nice colour. It’s a bit like the colour the rosehip tea goes when it hasn’t brewed for long enough. It’s nice. I like it. Also, you tend to get all smiley and affectionate when you go that colour too, which is also nice. Makes me feel all warm inside.”

From beside them, Caleb heard what he could only assume was Jester, although he’d never heard anyone, not even her, make a noise quite that high-pitched before. He sighed, shutting his eyes even as he felt himself smiling. “…Jester?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you… if it’s alright, could you perhaps give Caduceus and I some privacy? Just for a moment?”

“Oh!” he heard Jester exclaim. “Oh, oh, yeah, sure, of course! You two go be all mushy and sappy and adorable and whatever! I’ll just… I’ll just be over here. In the living room. Making sure that no one else can see you guys being cute. Or, you know, whatever it is that you want to do.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, of course!”

Caleb didn’t open his eyes until he heard Jester’s footsteps moving away from them. He knew that he was still some ridiculous shade of pink, but he minded it less now, when it was just him and Caduceus. He could turn rosehip-tea-pink around Caduceus. Caduceus _liked_ it when he turned rosehip-tea-pink. Caduceus liked his blush, and his smile, and thought that he was attractive, and handsome, and Caleb loved him.

Caleb loved him so much.

“Caleb?” Caduceus asked.

“Mm?”

“What was it that you were going to say?”

Caleb blinked open his eyes, frowning. “… _Was_?”

“You were going to say something,” Caduceus elaborated. “Before Jester interrupted us, you were going to say something. What was it?”

… _Oh_.

Caleb shook his head. He still had the nerve to say what he wanted to say, despite all the odds, but the moment didn’t feel right anymore. The bubble that had surrounded them so calmly and so comfortably had burst now, filling the space between them with chatter and song. The moment wasn’t theirs anymore. It was everyone’s, now, but that was alright, too. Caleb liked these moments. He liked feeling like he was part of the group, liked feeling as though he belonged here, liked feeling and thinking and _knowing_ that he could go back into Jester’s living room with Caduceus’ hand still held in his own, and mention his parents in some off-hand way, and know with absolute certainty that, in the most wonderful way, no one would care. He didn’t have to worry about being himself around anyone here. He could be afraid of fire, and that was alright. He could be anxious, and that was alright, too. He could take Frumpkin with him everywhere he went, and his friends would work to make sure that he could see Frumpkin while Frumpkin carried out his check.

He could exist here.

He just couldn’t quite tell Caduceus what he felt.

“Nothing important,” Caleb said, and felt his entire chest fill with warmth when Caduceus smiled at him. “Nothing important.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art in this chapter was done by [LimeyBlueArt](https://twitter.com/LimeyBlueArt)!
> 
> The final chapter of The Mycelium Effect will be posted on **November 4tth!**


	20. Chapter 20

Winter drew its shroud around Zadash.

With each passing day there came more frost to touch the ground with silver, curling the grass into miniscule spires that sparkled like diamonds beneath the weak winter sunlight and crossing ferns of frost across the windowpanes. The trees shed what few leaves they had been clinging to all the way through autumn, standing bare and barren against the winter sky as, around their feet, their leaves became touched by the same frost that covered everything else. On more than one occasion there was snow, drifting down first as tiny pin-point dots that melted into nothing more than water the moment they touched Caleb’s face, but then gathering themselves into thicker, heavier flurries that hid the last traces of pink in Caduceus’ hair. There had been no heavy snowfalls yet, or at least there had been none heavy enough to prevent Caleb or Caduceus from going into work, but winter was only just really beginning, and Caleb had no doubt that, by the end of the season, he would have spent at least one day at home as, all around him, the snow embraced the entire world and brought the roads to a standstill.

Somehow, with Caduceus by his side, he found that it wasn’t an idea that he particularly disliked.

Caleb had not always liked the snow, but he liked it now. He’d liked it when he was younger, had liked watching it fall from the safety and warmth of his house before sprinting outside to play in it, traipsing back inside some minutes or hours later and dripping meltwater onto the floor before the stove as his parents laughed and told him how pink he’d gone. He’d liked it significantly less when he’d watched it hissing and sizzling on the ruins of his house, gathering in heavy, angry clouds of steam and smoke and soot above the embers, and he’d liked it less still as it fell to cover his parents' grave, wrapping them in a final blanket of white.

He liked it now. Like with the prep lab at the museum, like with his parents’ graveside, like with Blumenthal, he found that he liked it better with Caduceus by his side. He liked holding Caduceus’ hand as they walked to the bus stop together on those mornings when Caduceus had stayed over at his house, their hands separated by the fabric of their gloves, but still close enough for some warmth to bleed through. He liked joining Caduceus for tea and the shipping forecast before lunch, sitting on his desk as the dust-like snow drifted lazily on the other side of the window. He liked going for walks with Caduceus, and listening to him congratulating the rare mushrooms that they encountered on their tenacity and spirit for surviving amongst the frost and snow, and he liked going home with him afterwards, be it to his own home or Caduceus’. He still wasn’t comfortable with Caduceus’ kitchen, wasn’t content to be in the same room as a gas stove, and so they tended to return to Caleb’s house more often than not, but Caduceus didn’t seem to mind. More than that: he _told_ Caleb that he didn’t mind whenever Caleb started to apologise, telling him that he would rather have Caleb feel safe and comfortable than stressed and worried. He didn’t mind Caleb’s anxiety. He never had.

He didn’t mind anything about Caleb, it seemed. 

He didn’t mind how Caleb liked to slip his freezing hands beneath Caduceus’ shirt after a walk out in the cold, stealing warmth from his slender frame. He didn’t mind how Caleb would sometimes start awake in the night when he stayed over at Caduceus’, unable to settle until he’d checked that the oven was absolutely, definitely off. He didn’t mind the seemingly random times that Caleb chose to tell him just a little bit more about his own parents, and about the life that he’d once had with them. He didn’t mind those times at all. He just went quiet and still, more so than he was normally, and listened until Caleb was done speaking, smiling encouragingly the whole time until Caleb had run out of words to say. Whenever that happened he spoke up, pausing to gather his thoughts before speaking. Caleb never knew exactly what Caduceus was going to say. He never knew exactly how Caduceus would react to each new piece of his past.

He just knew that, whatever Caduceus said, it would be alright.

And it was. It always was. Caduceus didn’t always know exactly the right thing to say but he always _tried_ , and Caleb appreciated that more than anything. He didn’t make it sad. He didn’t make it mournful. He just accepted it, and replied as best he could, and learned what things Caleb was uncomfortable with. He never judged Caleb for his grief, either – he just teased it out of him slowly and carefully, as though he were trying to catch the steam that drifted above their mugs and was somehow succeeding. With every shared tale, it became easier. With every shared story, the knot of grief in Caleb’s heart loosened slightly.

When he made mention of his parents to the rest of the Asshole Squad for the first time, his words little more than a seemingly casual, offhand comment, the small, proud smile that Caduceus had given him over the top of Jester’s head had stuck with him all day. When he’d kissed Caduceus later, out in the snow, he could still feel the smile on Caduceus’ lips.

Caleb liked walking in winter with Caduceus. He liked getting home from slow, leisurely walks in the patchy snow, or from hurried walks back from the bus stop in the icy winter rain, and seeing their coats hung up side by side in the hallway. He liked both of them taking off their wet clothes – a process that had, on more than one occasion, taken longer than it should have due to Caleb’s sudden, abrupt need to kiss Caduceus rather a lot – and he liked watching Caduceus petting Frumpkin and offering the cat the armchair in the living room, and he liked Caduceus’ little smile when Caleb brought him tea in the mug patterned with cartoon mushrooms that he’d found in a thrift shop. He liked the domesticity. He liked how easy it felt.

It felt easy now. They were sitting on the couch in what was, for them, a familiar position, with Caduceus’ long legs bracketing Caleb’s body and Caleb leant back against his chest, a book open in his lap. The TV was playing on the other side of the room, running some documentary that Caduceus was watching, and every now and again Caleb would hear Caduceus make small sounds of surprise or interest or even the occasional small comment at something that had just been shown or said. Caduceus was never loud, not intentionally, and Caleb only smiled and assured him that it was fine whenever Caduceus caught himself talking aloud and started to apologise. He liked hearing Caduceus’ words, even if he was reading at the time. He liked hearing how excited Caduceus got. There had been a point earlier in the show when Caduceus had got so excited by something that he’d seen that he’d started unconsciously tapping his hands against Caleb’s stomach where they rested above his sweater. Caleb had ended up putting his book aside for a moment then, turning around to face Caduceus with a smile and asking him what had got him so excited.

“ _Look,”_ Caduceus had said, excitement and delight evident in every syllable as he nodded towards the screen with a grin, and Caleb had turned and looked. The documentary seemed to be playing a timelapse of some sort, soft music playing gently beneath the voice of a narrator as fine, white strands spread slowly down and into the soil that filled the screen, all of them originating from the mushrooms that grew above the dirt. “Look,” Caduceus said again. “It’s mycelium.”

“ _Ja_?” Caleb heard himself asking. “Is it?” He turned his head, looking back up at Caduceus. Caduceus’ gaze was still transfixed on the screen, his eyes wide and bright and shining in the light of the television, and Caleb couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to look away, not now, when Caduceus was smiling so widely, his hands still tap-tapping against Caleb’s stomach as though he couldn’t help but physically show some of his excitement. Caduceus didn’t look back at Caleb as he nodded again, still watching the timelapse.

“Yeah,” he echoed. “It’s mycelium. It’s making its way all through the soil, you see?” He lifted a hand, pointing at the screen, and Caleb immediately shifted in a little closer to his front, already missing that brief, additional touch of warmth. “It just reached another network. That’s really nice.”

“What’s it doing?”

“Oh, connecting,” Caduceus answered casually. “Making itself known. I think this one they’re filming knows some of the trees nearby.”

“Can they do that?” Caduceus asked, and he wasn’t surprised when Caduceus’ only answer was a short hum. He could see the fascination in Caduceus’ eyes. He could see how drawn into the documentary Caduceus was. He didn’t want to disturb him further.

Caleb turned around, settling back into his position against Caduceus’ front. He reached out, taking Caduceus’ unresisting hand and placing it back on his stomach, and then he picked up his book, and continued reading.

Time passed. They hadn’t spoken for a while now, both of them doing their own thing, but slowly Caleb felt his attention being drawn back to the world around him, no longer feeling quite so absorbed by his book. The documentary was still playing in the background, but from what few words of it he picked up to it seemed to be talking about some specific species of bird and its nesting cycles. It wasn’t something that he knew a lot about, and it wasn’t something that Caduceus seemed to know much about either, if the way that he was absently braiding Caleb’s hair was anything to go by. Caleb had noticed him doing it a few times over the previous weeks, when whatever was on TV was enough to hold his attention but wasn’t quite enough to enrapture him. It didn’t seem to be a conscious thing, more seeming to be an action born out of habit than anything else, but Caleb didn’t mind it. He liked the feeling of Caduceus’ fingers in his hair, liked how they rubbed against his scalp and delicately twisted the strands into loose, gentle braids that fell free the moment Caduceus’ hands moved away. He liked Caduceus’ hands in his hair, or against his waist, or warm against his stomach when they cuddled. He liked holding Caduceus’ hand. He liked all of Caduceus.

He loved Caduceus, and now was the time to tell him.

“You know,” Caleb said, his voice breaking their shared, soft silence, “I think I love you, Caduceus.”

There was no build-up to his words. There was no change in his actions to preclude them, was nothing else that crossed his mind that he felt like he needed to say first. He just said them, as easily and as simply as if he’d said them a hundred, a thousand times before. They didn’t feel new. They just felt right. They certainly didn’t feel like a surprise, not to him. He’d known this feeling for a while now, was familiar with how it chased through his veins like sunlight every time he saw Caduceus and was well-accustomed to how it felt nestled safely behind his ribs, wrapped around his heart and glowing with every breath. He knew what it was. Ever since Jester’s party, he’d known what it was. He’d wanted to say it ever since their interrupted moment, but, for some reason, the moment had never felt right. There had already been countless instances in the short period of time between then and now when he’d nearly said it, feeling the words lining up on his tongue just waiting for him to speak, but he hadn’t. None of those times had been correct. None of them had been _right_. Not even when they’d kissed in the fine, powdery snow after Caleb had mentioned his family to the others at the museum. Not even a few days ago, when Caduceus had laughed at something that Caleb had said while cooking dinner and Caleb had felt his entire heart grown warm with fondness and affection. Not even yesterday morning, when Caleb had woken up to find Caduceus wrapped around him like a particularly clinging octopus, his hair a pink-tinged snowfield across the pillow and his eyes watching Caleb in silence as a soft smile lingered around his lips. When Caleb mentioned how cuddly Caduceus was being, his words half-mumbled through sleep, Caduceus had only shrugged.

“I wanted to be close to you,” he’d said. “I wanted to hold you.”

Even that hadn’t been the right time. But this was. This felt right. It felt right to say the words that Caleb so badly wanted to say. And this moment, small and soft and simple and entirely, wonderfully _theirs_ – that felt right, too. It felt right to speak up now, felt right to run his fingers absently over the pages of his book and tell Caduceus exactly how he felt. Caleb didn’t feel like he needed to work his way up to it, didn’t feel like he needed to stammer and blush and feel awkward and unsure about Caduceus’ reaction, because while he had no idea if his feelings were mutual or not, he found that he didn’t really mind. He loved Caduceus. He wanted Caduceus to know that he loved him. It was as simple as that.

And so, when there was no immediate reaction from Caduceus, Caleb didn’t panic. He felt uncertainty growing in his chest, nerves and concern already starting to seep in along the edges of his mind, but he tried not to let it get to him. This was Caduceus he was talking to, after all. Caduceus was safe. Caduceus had always been safe. The worst that could possibly happen was that Caduceus didn’t feel quite as strongly as Caleb did, in which case Caleb was sure that Caduceus would let him know, and then they would continue to enjoy their evening. He couldn’t see Caduceus ending anything because of his feelings. It was more than likely, Caleb knew, that Caduceus was just getting his thoughts in order, working through everything slowly and methodically so that, when he finally did say something, it was only exactly what he meant to say.

Against his back, Caleb felt Caduceus’ chest move in an inhale, and knew that he was about to speak.

“Oh,” Caduceus said. Caleb couldn’t see his ears, not leant back against Caduceus’ chest as he was, but he thought that he could hear them, swish-swishing quietly above the sound of his own soft breathing. Caduceus’ tone certainly implied that his ears were swishing. Caleb hoped that they were. He liked it when Caduceus’ ears swished, liked how they signalled his delight and contentment as though through semaphore. He liked Caduceus’ ears, and their velvety softness, and he liked Caduceus’ hair, and how the winter was slowly stealing the colour from it, and he liked Caduceus’ smile and Caduceus’ laugh and Caduceus’ kindness and he liked _Caduceus_ , in every way possible.

He loved him.

“Oh,” Caduceus said again, and his voice was softer now, less surprised and more quietly, warmly delighted. Caleb felt Caduceus’ hand flexing against his stomach and he dropped a hand from his book to cover it, entwining his fingers with Caduceus’ and squeezing gently. “Oh, that’s- wow.”

Caleb smiled. “Mm,” he hummed.

“That’s really- yeah. Wow.”

“I just thought that you should know.”

“I- huh. That’s nice. That’s really nice.”

Caleb smiled wider at that. He loved Caduceus’ response. He loved how absolutely familiar it was to him. “I’ve been thinking it for a while,” he continued quietly, absently running his fingers up and down the open pages before him. He didn’t turn his head to look up at Caduceus. He didn’t feel like he had to. “Not for ages, but for… _ja_ , for a while. Since Jester’s party, in fact. I had been meaning to tell you, too, but I… well, I didn’t know when the right time was. I thought that this was the right time, though. So… _ja_. I love you.”

“Wow,” Caduceus said again. Caleb shut his eyes, turning his head and pressing a small, calm kiss to Caduceus’ neck, followed by another, and then another one, each one a single star in the constellation of kisses that he pressed wherever he could reach. He could feel Caduceus’ hand squeezing his, could feel Caduceus’ heart drumming slow and steady in his chest, could feel the soft rumble of his voice all the way down in his bones, and he loved it. He loved him. He loved Caduceus so, so much, and, now Caduceus knew.

Caleb didn’t say anything more. He just continued to kiss whatever he could possibly reach, smiling to himself as Caduceus mumbled and stammered above him before eventually falling silent. It was a soft silence, a warm silence, one that was altogether beloved and familiar to Caleb. It felt like family. It felt like home.

“I love you too,” Caduceus said out of that soft, wonderful warmth, and, just like that, every other thought in Caleb’s head fell silent. Everything else stopped mattering quite so much.

Caleb froze, his lips still pressed to Caduceus’ neck. “Oh,” he said quietly, hearing his own voice speak as though from a great distance. Somehow, despite everything, he’d never actually thought about this. He’d never thought about what it would be like to tell Caduceus that he loved him, and have it be acknowledged, and then to hear Caduceus _say it back_. He hadn’t even thought about that, not even for a moment. In all the time that he’d been waiting to tell Caduceus how he felt, waiting for the right moment to come along, he’d never really stopped to think about what would happen afterwards. He’d never thought about how his heart would skip a beat in his chest before returning to beating, drumming away just a little bit faster than it had before. He’d never thought about looking up and seeing the small, soft smile on Caduceus’ face, the one that was only ever for him, and feeling himself starting to smile back even past his shock and surprise. He’d never thought about how Caduceus’ thumbs would feel rubbing against the back of his own hands, the touch so familiar as to be akin to sense memory, but a touch that was his all the same.

All of this was his. This house was his, and his job was his, and he had friends who cared for him and listened to him and respected his worries and triggers, and he had Caduceus’ hands above his own, against his skin. He had Caduceus’ love.

He had Caduceus’ love.

Caleb twisted in place, dropping his book to his lap as he turned as best he could to kiss Caduceus properly. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position, but Caleb didn’t care. He _couldn’t_ care. Caduceus loved him. Caduceus _loved him_. Caleb loved Caduceus, and Caduceus loved him back, and Caleb was safe and warm and comfortable in his own home with his service cat nearby, and there was no gas to speak of, and he no longer carried the weight of his parents’ memories alone, and Caduceus loved him. Caduceus had seen all of his past, and all of his worries, and he loved him.

“I love you,” Caleb said, the words little more than a mumble against Caduceus’ lips, and he felt Caduceus smiling too. “I love you so much, _Liebling_.”

“I love you too,” Caduceus replied. Caleb felt Caduceus’ hands shifting, moving to settle on Caleb’s hips, and after a moment Caleb reached out to place his book down on the coffee table so that he could roll over entirely, pressing their chests together. He reached up, one hand cupping Caduceus’ face as the other tangled in his hair, and he kissed him again and again and again, feeling himself smiling so much his cheeks nearly hurt with it. Caduceus’ hands moved once more, skimming over Caleb’s skin until they were both resting on his waist, and something about the position of Caduceus’ hands, and the angle of the kiss, and the amber light of the streetlamps just about filtering through the curtains to mingle with the warm lights of his home reminded Caleb of something.

“Caduceus?” he mumbled, loathe to stop kissing him for any longer of a second, and when he continued his words were broken up by yet more kisses. “Do you- _mm_ \- do you- do you remember the first time we- when I first kissed you?”

“Mm?” Caduceus hummed, seemingly as reluctant to stop kissing Caleb as Caleb was to stop kissing him.

“Do you- gods, _Liebling_ \- do you- do you remember-…” Caleb trailed off for a bit, losing himself to Caduceus’ kisses, and then he forced himself to pull back, leaning away just enough that he could speak without distraction. “It felt- well, this might just be me, but this feels a little bit familiar to me.”

There was a pause.

“Oh,” Caduceus said. “Oh! Oh, yeah, it was a bit like this, wasn’t it? Well, I mean, I suppose it was raining instead of snowing, and we were both outside, but… yeah. It did feel kind of like this, didn’t it? It felt really nice and relaxed and comfortable. Yeah… that was nice. I liked that. I’m really glad that happened.”

Caleb couldn’t have stopped his smile even if he’d wanted to. “I’m glad that it happened, too,” he replied. He leaned in, kissing Caduceus once more, all slow and lazy like summer air, and then he gave a small sigh and settled back down. He turned a little, shifting against Caduceus’ front, and felt Caduceus’ arm move until he was comfortably repositioned, now looking up at the firbolg. “I’m very glad you called me after the- after what happened at the museum. You really helped a lot, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Caduceus replied, but there was no smugness in his tone, no hint of ego or unwarranted pride. He just sounded as calm as ever, his voice level as though he were stating a fact. “I think you told me. Or maybe you told me the day after, when I came by. I can’t really remember. I remember the kiss, though. That was really, really nice.”

“It was,” Caleb agreed, and then, just because he could and because they were talking about it, he stretched up to press a kiss to Caduceus’ lips. The angle was a little awkward, and Caleb had to crane his neck a bit in order to do it, but he didn’t mind. He liked kissing Caduceus. He _loved_ kissing Caduceus. He didn’t think he’d ever stop loving kissing Caduceus, or touching Caduceus, or holding Caduceus’ hand or cuddling with him on the couch or listening to the shipping forecast with him or any of that. He loved Caduceus. He loved all of Caduceus.

And Caduceus loved him.

Caleb leaned back slightly, just resting their foreheads together with his eyes shut. There was nothing but safety, here. There was nothing but warmth. There was Caduceus beneath his hands and against his front, and there was Frumpkin sleeping peacefully on a chair, and there was Caleb himself, with all his heart laid out for Caduceus to see.

“I love you, Caduceus Clay,” Caleb said, his words little more than a murmur. He felt Caduceus’ exhale against his lips and couldn’t resist leaning in just briefly to press a kiss to them before leaning back, gazing up at him.

Caduceus smiled, slow and warm like the spread of sunlight. It was a soft smile, a familiar smile, one that Caleb loved to see. He hoped he’d be able to make Caduceus smile like that for many years to come. “I love you too,” Caduceus said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and then he ducked his head, and pressed his lips to Caleb’s in a kiss.

And that, for then and always, would be enough.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful art this chapter was done by the delightful [fswrites](https://twitter.com/fswrites)!
> 
> And with that lovely piece of art, The Mycelium Effect comes to an end. Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this strange, rambling story that ended up focusing way more on grief than I originally planned for it to, whether you've been reading from the start, joined part-way through, or have only started now that it's all finished. Reading your comments with each chapter has been an absolute delight, and it would absolutely amazing if you could comment with your favourite scene or moment in the fic. If you want to talk to me, you're always welcome to reach out to me at my [twitter](https://twitter.com/crunchywrites) or [tumblr](https://crunchywrites.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for reading,
> 
> -Crunchy x

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my two wonderful betas, [Eileen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena) and [E ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookishdark)! My love and thanks to you both are endless <3 Thanks also to crunchtown and the Clayleb servers for encouraging this x
> 
> Fic comments are always welcome and help to fuel the motivation! Or, if you'd like to talk to me elsewhere, please feel welcome to message me at my [tumblr](https://crunchywrites.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/crunchywrites)!


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